Constant Strangeness
by anonwhat
Summary: Harry and Draco meet again after several years and begin dating. "Dating is just awkward moments and one person wants more than the other. It's just that constant strangeness."  NC-17 A/N: Each part can be a stand-alone one-shot. There is no overall plot.
1. Bottoms Up

Title: Bottoms Up

Rating: R (for language)

Beta: oflights

A/N: Giftfic for simeysgirl who asked for football (_not_ soccer) and stockings. As well as Aston Villa, balti pie and cold lager. Plus the general poo-pooing of Americanisms.  
This fic does end a little abruptly, but I _am _planning a sequel to it!

* * *

Looking up from his half empty pint of lager and gazing around the Muggle pub, Harry smiled. He'd been spending quiet Saturday afternoons at different pubs for the past few weeks, and truly enjoyed the solitude and time to think. And the beer. Beer was good.

A couple of months ago Harry had started playing football with some friends at a local park on Saturday mornings, and after a particularly spectacular win one of the guys had suggested going to the pub for a drink. As the others drifted home Harry had stayed for another drink, basking in the quiet chatter and relaxed atmosphere. Every Saturday afternoon since had found him enjoying a new pub and another pint.

He drained the last of his current drink and ordered another. As the bartender set his cold lager down in front of him another patron along the bar stood to leave and Harry caught sight of the person sitting the other side. With his legs crossed, head bowed with hair in his eyes and casually tearing at a bar mat in this small Muggle pub, was Draco Malfoy.

Before Harry could think any further than '_Malfoy?'_ Malfoy's head had risen and he had spotted Harry. For a few seconds, they both just stared at each other. Harry seemed to recover first, raising both his eyebrows and offering a small smile as a shocked, but friendly, greeting. Malfoy's dazed expression disappeared to be replaced by one of amused annoyance and resignation as he rolled his eyes, slid off his stool, and slowly made his way towards Harry.

"Hello, Malfoy," said Harry as he approached.

"Potter," replied Malfoy with a small nod as he sat down.

They were silent as they continued to drink.

Harry let his eyes roam over the bottles at the back of the bar as he took larger than normal gulps of his beer, having no clue what to say to the man sitting next to him.

After several minutes Malfoy drained his own lager and set the glass down as he stood.

"It's been wonderful catching up with you, Potter," Malfoy quipped wryly.

Harry's brow furrowed as Malfoy walked to the door and left the pub.

* * *

Draco had to wonder if coming back to the pub was a good idea. He'd been spending his Saturdays with a book, his journal and his thoughts at this particular Muggle pub for the better part of a year and had never once run into anyone he knew. Until last week**—**and of course that person would have to be Harry bloody Potter.

Sighing, but refusing to abandon his favourite hideaway, he entered the pub. A quick glance around showed no sign of Potter's tell-tale messy black hair and Draco relaxed. He ordered a pint and retreated to a secluded table towards the back of the pub. He hoped Potter would not be back, but refused to run the risk of being easily spotted if he did return.

An hour later and Draco was so engrossed in his book that he had forgotten all about Potter. That was until he felt someone standing across the table from him. He looked up slowly to see the grinning face of Harry Potter staring down at him.

"Fancy seeing you here." Potter paused. "Again."

Struggling not to roll his eyes, Draco put down his book, stood, picked up his empty glass, and made his way to the bar.

By the time he returned with a new pint, Potter had settled himself into the seat opposite Draco's and was flicking through Draco's book. Draco dropped back into his seat and raised an eyebrow at Potter.

"Agatha Christie? Draco Malfoy is sitting in a Muggle pub, drinking Muggle alcohol and reading a Muggle book. I'm in shock." Potter handed the book back to Draco.

"Is there something I can help you with, Potter, or did you just want to mock me?" Draco was not impressed.

"I haven't seen you in three years, Malfoy. I thought I might see how life has been treating you."

Draco pondered Potter's motives, but thought he sounded earnest enough.

"My life is fine, Potter." He paused. "Do you really want to do this?"

"Do what?" Potter seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Awkward chit-chat. With me."

Potter shrugged. "Why not? You can't be the same annoying git you were at school; you haven't even insulted me yet."

"With three years' worth of contempt to catch up on, I just can't decide which disparaging remark to make first." Draco could feel the corners of his mouth curl up as he spoke.

"There's the Malfoy I know and love," joked Potter.

Draco simply stared at him

"Okay, the Malfoy I know and hate."

Draco nodded once, appeased.

"So really, then. How are you, Malfoy?" Potter ceased jesting and looked at Draco seriously.

"I am well. Life is not too bad. My Saturday is ruined." He raised an eyebrow at Potter. "What about you?"

Potter chuckled before replying.

"I'm good. No more evil wizards trying to do me in, that I know of. So I'm happily enjoying a more relaxed and normal life."

"And what is it you do with your 'relaxed and normal life'?" Draco suddenly found himself rather curious about what the Chosen One was doing with himself now that he was no longer 'Chosen'.

"Auror training takes up most of my time," he replied.

"Of course." Draco nodded condescendingly. Whether the Chosen One or not, Potter would have to be a do-gooder danger-seeker.

"What about you? What do you do?"

"A bit of this, a bit of that. All boring things that make me a lot of money." Draco sat up a little straighter as he took a sip of his beer. He caught the amused smile on Potter's face.

"Of course," Potter nodded.

"Is that it, then?" Draco asked. "Auror training and pub haunting are how you spend your time?"

"And football," Potter smiled, seeming completely at ease.

"Football?"

"Muggle sport. You kick a ball around with your foot." Potter sounded far too smug.

"Isn't that soccer?" Draco had heard of the game, but thought it sounded rather dull compared to Quidditch.

"No, well yes, but soccer is what Americans call it. It's football really."

"Why do Americans call it soccer?" Draco was starting to get confused.

Potter thought for a moment.

"Because Americans already call rugby football."

"What? That makes no sense." Now Draco really _was_ confused.

"I don't pretend to understand Americans." Potter started to laugh.

They spent the next hour or so making small talk and Draco discovered he didn't completely hate Potter's company. He supposed it made a refreshing change to his normal solitary Saturdays. He idly wondered if this would become a regular occurrence, then wondered why that possibility didn't seem as horrific as he thought it should.

* * *

As soon as Harry entered the pub on that third Saturday he looked around eagerly, trying to spy the blond-headed man he had come here to see. Again. He wasn't sure why he had come back to this pub last week, but this week there was no denying that Harry had come back to see Malfoy.

Harry had been happy to see Malfoy was no longer the annoying bastard he had been at school. He still seemed to be an annoying bastard, but not the same one he had been. The time they had spent talking last week was relaxed and Harry had found himself smiling a lot. If it was possible to repeat the experience, then he wanted to.

He spotted Malfoy reading at the same table they had occupied last week, bypassed the bar and headed straight towards him. Malfoy didn't look up from his book as Harry pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. Harry's attention was so focused on Malfoy that he didn't notice the extra beer on the table until Malfoy slowly pushed it towards Harry, otherwise still not acknowledging his presence.

Harry couldn't have prevented the laugh that burst from his mouth at the gesture. He noticed one of Malfoy's eyebrows rise and he peered at Harry over the top of his book. Harry simply grinned openly at him.

"Thanks," said Harry, after taking a large gulp of his drink.

Malfoy nodded as he closed his book and looked at Harry.

"You knew I'd be back, then?" Harry asked, still grinning.

"You're a creature of habit, Potter. You arrived at the same time as you did last week. And I figured if you didn't show up, I'd have an extra drink." Malfoy looked rather pleased with himself.

"_I'm_ a creature of habit? You know you've been here every Saturday as well, don't you?"

"I've spent every Saturday here for almost 7 months. A few visits from you, Potter, will not alter the habits of this creature."

"Hmm, well this creature may have acquired a new habit." Harry attempted to be cryptic in his intention to continue coming to this particular pub on Saturday afternoons.

"What are you on about, Potter? I think the words 'creature' and 'habit' may have lost all meaning to me." Malfoy shook his head as he drank his beer.

Harry may have been a little too cryptic, so he decided to change the subject instead.

"Why have you been coming here for 7 months?"

"Because I like it here," Malfoy stated simply.

"And you're always alone?" Harry found it hard to believe Malfoy had no one to spend his Saturdays with.

"You may find it hard to believe," Malfoy took the words right out of Harry's head, "what with constantly being surrounded by friends and groupies, but some of us enjoy time to ourselves."

"_Groupies!_" Harry was wondering if maybe Malfoy _could_ still be the same bastard he's been at school, when he noticed the man was chuckling.

Malfoy sat back in his chair as he crossed his legs and brought his drink to his lips. He seemed incredibly relaxed and Harry realised he's never really seen Malfoy quite like this.

"And anyway," Harry continued, dropping his outrage at the 'groupies' comment, "I enjoy time to myself. Have I been with anyone here in the past 3 weeks?"

"Yes," Malfoy smirked, "me."

"You don't count." Harry waved a hand in Malfoy's general direction, not fully comprehending just how at ease he already was around the man.

"Charming." Malfoy was still smirking.

"In fact I've been spending my Saturdays after football alone in a different pub for a couple of months now. I can totally appreciate alone time." Harry felt oddly smug.

"If you've been spending time in a _different_ pub each week, why have been in this one for the past 3 weeks running?"

Harry's smugness evaporated.

"Erm, it's nice here," Harry said quickly. "Like you said: I like it."

Malfoy looked at him quizzically, but dropped the subject.

They spent some time indulging in a comfortable silence, each embroiled in the solitude they had both claimed to enjoy. Malfoy returned to his book while Harry flipped through his newspaper, occasionally casting a glance at the blond. He'd brought the paper with him in case Malfoy had not been at the pub, but even sitting quietly here with him now, Harry wasn't actually reading the news. He was thinking about why he'd come back to this pub. Last week's return visit could be put down to simple curiosity as to whether Malfoy would be there again and the excuse of finding out how Malfoy had been spending his life since the end of the war. This week, though, he had come here hoping to see Malfoy again for different reasons. He wanted to talk to the prat, to have him make fun of Harry and to generally enjoy his company. It was strange to admit he rather liked the blond bastard.

"What are you smiling about, Potter?" Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry suddenly realised he'd been caught looking at Malfoy. His smiled faltered only for a second.

"Just, er, marvelling at the fact that we, of all people, are sat here in a pub, quietly sharing a friendly drink together."

"And unless I'm very much mistaken, we will no doubt be repeating the experience next week," drawled Malfoy with a smirk, as he returned his eyes to his book.

Harry swallowed heavily and didn't say anything. Instead he picked up both of their glasses and headed to the bar to get the next round.

* * *

Draco actually arrived at the pub early the next week. He told himself it was because he was generally running ahead of schedule, but considering he didn't really have a schedule on Saturday, that was complete bollocks. He was just keen to see Potter. And, as much as Draco was shocked to believe it, Potter seemed rather keen on seeing Draco, too.

Walking into the pub, Draco was going to head straight to the back and snag their usual table. Oh God, Draco thought, did he and Potter really have a usual table? Before he'd taken more than a couple of steps, however, he spotted a familiar hulk propping up the bar with a number of shot glasses strewn in front of him.

"Potter!" Draco cried as he changed direction and headed for the bar.

"Malfoy!" Potter practically yelled his greeting to the whole pub as he stumbled off his stool and tried to embrace Draco.

"Get off me, Potter." Draco shoved the man back onto his stool and sat beside him. "What the hell are you doing here so early? Shouldn't you be off footing balls? What have you been drinking? And why the hell did you decide midday was a good time to get drunk? In my pub, no less!"

"Too many questions." Potter was shaking his head and motioning the bartender for another drink. "One at a time, please."

"What happened to you?" Draco swiftly removed the new shot of vodka from Potter's hand and downed it himself. He figured he was going to need it.

"Oi!" Potter complained without much malice and then sighed. "I had a fight with Ron."

"So?" Draco didn't see how an argument with Weasley would leave Potter with the need to get this drunk. "What is he, your boyfriend?"

Suddenly the man sitting next to him collapsed onto the bar in a fit of drunken giggles.

"No," Potter managed to gasp out. "But you're pretty close," he added quietly.

"Do you _want_ him to be your boyfriend!" If that was the case then Draco could completely understand the excessive amount of vodka Potter was consuming.

"No no no," exclaimed Potter, followed by more giggles.

"Then colour me confused." Draco briefly pondered the possibility that Potter was the sober one and Draco was completely pissed.

"It doesn't matter, Malfoy," Potter sighed.

Draco frowned. "I was only trying to help, Potter."

A small, but happy smile appeared on Potter's face as he looked up at Draco.

"Thank you," he said earnestly

Draco suddenly felt a little uncomfortable and avoided talking to Potter by ordering himself a pint of lager and sipping on it quietly.

Potter seemed oblivious to the awkward silence as he upturned his empty shot glasses and started piling them atop one another in a triangular shape. Draco watched quietly and noticed that as the display got taller, Potter's hands shook more until one of the glasses fell, tumbling to the floor and rolling under Draco's stool.

Quickly, Draco hopped off his stool and bent to retrieve the shot glass.

"Woah, nice ass, Malfoy!" Potter seemed to be enjoying the view.

"_Ass?_" Draco stood and whirled round to face the drunkard. "I'm not a donkey, Potter. I think you'll find it's my _arse_ you were admiring."

Potter blushed, turned back towards the bar and promptly elbowed his precarious pile of glasses. They all went crashing across the bar as Potter flailed his arms in a vain attempt to stop them.

"Sorry," he cried to the barman who had rushed over to sort out the mess.

"Geez, Potter, I think we should probably get you home." Malfoy had no idea where Potter's home was, but it was where he needed to be.

Instead of protesting Potter stood up on shaky legs and looked at Draco, embarrassed.

Draco grasped Potter's upper arm and slowly lead him out of the pub, mindful of the fact that Potter could lose his balance and pull them both over at any moment.

Once they were stood in the alley beside the pub Draco took a quick glance around, squeezed the arm he was holding a little tighter, and apparated them both to Malfoy Manor.

Potter looked a little queasy as he dropped himself into the nearest chair.

Dashing through the house, Draco hoped Potter remained conscious long enough to tell him where the hell he lived.

He quickly returned to Potter who had stood and was currently reaching above his head and trying to grasp at the chandelier.

"Potter, stop it. Take this." He thrust a small vial into Potter's hand.

Potter smiled again, but otherwise remained quiet and unmoving.

Unsure what else to do, Draco managed to get Potter to tell him his address, directed him to the fireplace and shoved him in the Floo.

* * *

Harry was running late. He hadn't even bothered to change after today's match. Shit, he hadn't even bothered to _shower_ after today's match. Probably a huge mistake considering the person he was rushing to meet was Draco image-is-everything Malfoy.

After last week's drunken spectacle Harry was unsure if Malfoy would even show up this week, but was hoping that Malfoy would at least want to take the piss out of Harry for being a ridiculously drunken fool.

He didn't bother composing himself, opting for simply barging through the door to the pub and looking around. After getting himself a lager he spotted Malfoy at their regular table and headed over to him as Malfoy eyed him up with a smirk.

"Nice stockings, Potter," was Malfoy's chosen opener.

Harry looked down at his legs clad in long football socks; sky blue with claret trim.

"They're socks, Malfoy."

"Whatever, they show your legs off nicely either way."

Choking on the sip he had just taken, Harry fell into his chair and gaped at Malfoy.

"I've got nice legs?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You do when they're holding you up properly."

Understanding the rather unsubtle reference to last week, Harry blushed.

"I'm rather embarrassed about what happened last week." Harry took a large gulp of his beer before he continued. "I'm really sorry I was so drunk. I'm sorry about any stupid things I said. And thank you for sending me home. And especially thank you for the hangover potion."

Malfoy had not taken his eyes off of Harry as he'd spoken, while Harry had barely taken his eyes off of the table between them. When Harry finally looked up, Malfoy was smiling.

"Don't apologise for being drunk, being drunk is great. You say stupid things all the time, so that was nothing new. I think we may have been barred from my favourite pub if I hadn't taken you home when I did, so that was completely motivated by self-interest."

Finally Malfoy paused for air and a drink of his own lager.

"And the hangover potion?" Harry queried.

Malfoy tilted his head to the left in thought before answering.

"You obviously don't get that drunk very often, so I assumed you didn't have your own supply at home." Malfoy's cheeks were becoming slightly pink. "I suppose your hapless state brought out the mollycoddler in me." Blush or no, Malfoy still rolled his eyes.

Harry laughed. "Well, thank you. I'm still rather embarrassed about it all."

"If you're embarrassed about last week," said Malfoy as he raised an eyebrow, "then why did you decide to embarrass yourself further by showing up in _that_ outfit?"

Now it was Harry's turn to blush.

"The game ran late, but I really wanted to get here and see you." Harry rubbed at the back of his head. "You know, to apologise! Anyway, can I buy you an early dinner to show my gratitude?"

Malfoy chuckled, but otherwise ignored Harry's fresh embarrassment.

"Hmm, I've never eaten the food here. I guess we can give it a go." Malfoy sounded wary.

"You've been coming here every week for months and you've never eaten here?" Harry had always found pub food delicious.

Malfoy shrugged. "Show me what I'm missing, Potter."

Harry laughed but headed to the bar to order them some food and another round of drinks.

* * *

"And what exactly is this?" Draco asked when their balti pie and chips arrived at the table.

"It's food, Malfoy. Delicious food. Eat it."

Harry couldn't help but grin as Draco plunged his knife into the pie, cut himself a large portion and rammed it into his mouth.

"When in doubt, you've just got to go for it," Draco managed to say around his mouthful.

"How very Gryffindor of you," commented Harry.

Draco started choking on the pastry still in his mouth and Harry sniggered.

"Only when it comes to my food," Draco clarified when he'd taken a sip of his beer.

"It's still nice to know you've got a bit of Gryffindor in you," Harry said with a wink.

Having only just started on his next mouthful, Draco began choking again.

Harry finally shut up enough to let Draco eat safely and by the time they'd finished their food Draco was laughing merrily as he started to tease Harry about the previous week.

"I swear, the whole pub saw you try to hug me, Potter!"

Harry cringed. He remembered that and did not want to repeat it, at least not the room full of people part. Hugging Draco he could stand to do a little more of. He smiled at that thought and looked up at the blond, who was also looking at him.

"You never did tell me what you fought with Weasley about," Draco said. "It must have been something important to drive you to my pub to get pissed."

"You talk like you own this place." Harry tried to avoid answering the question.

"I do own this place, but that's not the point. What'd you argue about?"

Draco felt warmly satisfied at the shocked look on Harry's face, but continued to push the issue. Harry had purposely come looking for Draco in this pub after his fight with Weasley and Draco wanted to know why.

Harry sighed. "We fought about you," he finally said.

"Me?" Draco sat up a little straighter, frowning.

"Yes, you."

Harry took a long drain on his drink. The cold lager felt wonderful as it passed down his warm throat.

"I mentioned to him that'd I'd seen you a few times; that we'd had a few drinks and a chat."

"And he didn't like that fact." It wasn't a question.

Draco wasn't surprised; Weasleys and Malfoys are taught to despise each other from birth. Draco's fall from grace during the war may have knocked some sense into him, or more accurately, knocked some prejudice out of him, but Weasley had had no opportunity for such an epiphany.

"Understatement," Harry said as he shook his head.

There was silence for a few minutes as Harry silently hoped Draco wouldn't remember the tiny slip up Harry had made while under the influence.

"When I jokingly asked if Weasley was your boyfriend, you said no," Draco said slowly. "But you said I was 'pretty close'"

Considering Draco was quoting Harry accurately, it was safe to assume he remembered the slip up quite clearly. Harry could feel the blush rising in his face.

"What did you mean by that, Potter?"

"Ron was angry with me because he was worried I was getting too friendly with you; that you were going to take his place as my best friend or something stupid," Harry tried to explain.

"Yeah, us friends? Completely stupid," Draco said, obviously hurt.

"That's not what I meant! Dammit." Harry brought his hands down hard on the table. This wasn't coming out right.

"Then what did you mean?" Draco looked Harry straight in the eye.

"I mean I don't want you to be my friend, Malfoy," Harry said as he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of Draco's. "I want you to be my boyfriend."

Draco closed his eyes, smiled and placed his other hand on top of Harry's.

"I can't believe you're pouring your heart out to me in that outfit."

-End-


	2. Awkward Moments

Title: Awkward Moments

Rating: R (for language)

Beta: oflights

A/N: Giftfic for simeysgirl who gave me the prompts sweets, trousers and under the table. I also rolled over a couple of prompts from Bottoms Up.

* * *

Looking once again into his full length mirror, Draco sighed and shook his head. He quickly stripped off the jumper he was wearing and threw it haphazardly onto the ever increasing pile of clothes he had already rejected.

After Harry's earnest declaration in the pub last week, followed by Draco's admission that he quite fancied Harry, too, they had decided to go on a real date. Or at least Harry had asked Draco if he would accompany him this evening. Draco was calling it a date, but wasn't sure if the situation warranted such a significant term.

Slipping into a dark red shirt, Draco began to question his sanity. Had he really agreed to this? How was this going to be anything like an excellent first date? And should he wear red? Would it make him stick out? Or worse, blend in with the wrong people? Stamping his foot in frustration, Draco peeled off the shirt and flung it aside. What the fuck was he supposed to wear? Harry hadn't given him any help.

Eventually Draco gave up on the idea that he could find something smart to wear that wouldn't make him stick out like the stuck-up posh git that he was. Instead he settled for spending the evening feeling slightly awkward, but hopefully blending in, in black Muggle jeans and a light blue t-shirt.

He was glad he'd finally decided what to wear, because when he glanced at his watch he saw he only had a few minutes until he was supposed to meet Harry. He quickly put on his shoes, slung on a jacket and grabbed his wand before Apparating to the location Harry had shown him.

* * *

Appearing amongst the same set of trees he'd been taken to last week, Draco hardly had time to get his bearings before Harry was bounding up to him with a silly grin on his face.

"Malfoy! You made it!"

"Of course I did." Draco noted Harry's grin was a little _too_ wide and he noticed a glimmer of nervousness in his eyes. "What, did you think I wasn't going to show up?"

"No, of course not," said Harry, while gently nodding his head at the same time.

"Idiot. I said I'd come, didn't I? And here I am."

"Yep!" Harry's face lit up with a genuine smile, then. "Come on, let's go in."

Gesturing with his hand, Harry walked away and Draco followed. They exited the shelter of the trees and crossed a road. As they walked through a gate flanked by two lions Draco looked up and admired the yellow swirls and writing on the brick front of the stadium. Once they began climbing the steps Draco turned towards Harry.

"So you come here a lot, then?" he asked.

"When they're at home, yeah."

"They _live _here?" Draco just thought they came here to play football, he didn't think the players actually resided there.

"No, no," Harry laughed. "This is their home stadium, but sometimes they'll play away at other teams' stadiums."

Draco just nodded. _'Why did I agree to this?'_ he thought. _'I don't know anything about bloody football.'_

"Don't look so worried," Harry said, obviously reading the anxiety on Draco's face. Draco found this a little hypocritical considering Harry was the nervous one not two minutes ago.

"I'm not worried, Potter. I just don't know what to expect."

"You can expect to see twendy-odd men running around in shorts. Surely that's something you can appreciate?"

Harry smiled at him as they reached the top of the steps and walked towards one of the entrances leading into the stadium. Reaching into his pocket Harry brought out two pieces of card and handed them to a waiting Muggle before heading inside.

"Will all these men be wearing socks like the ones you had on last week?" Draco asked hopefully as they tried to find their seats.

"Only half of them."

"Well I shall be hoping that half of them get to foot the ball the most, then. That is the point of the game, isn't it?" Draco asked, suddenly unsure.

He stopped looking for their seats and turned his eyes to Potter, who was a few steps behind him, doubled over with laughter.

"What!"

"They don't-" Harry straightened up and wiped tears away from his eyes. "They don't foot the ball, Malfoy. They _kick_ the ball, with their feet."

Draco just scowled.

"But yes," continued Harry, "we want that team to kick the ball the most. Preferably into that big net." He pointed to one end of the massive green pitch below them.

Harry was still chuckling a few minutes later when they had eventually found and settled into their seats.

Draco found the football game pretty dull, really. They were just running all over the place. Brooms were far more fun. And there was only one ball. Regardless of what his opinions on the game were, he did manage to find a couple of things to appreciate. The first entertaining thing to happen was Harry taking his jumper off to reveal a claret coloured t-shirt with sky blue sleeves.

"At least it matches your socks," Draco had said.

Harry had given him an odd look, and it wasn't until Draco began looking at the other spectators, the majority of whom were wearing the same thing, did he realise it must be the team's uniform.

The main thing Draco found to enjoy during the two hours his spent in his uncomfortable plastic chair was Harry. Harry was completely engrossed in the game going on on the pitch; he didn't notice that Draco spent most of the time looking at him instead of the match. Harry was so involved with what was going on below them; he would shout and cheer and point. A couple of times he even started singing and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. Draco found it wonderful to watch.

During the half-hour intermission Draco and Harry had chatted, and Harry had asked Draco if he was having a good time. Despite the fact that the football match, the reason they were here, was boring Draco senseless, he couldn't tell Harry that. Not when he had that nervous, yet quietly hopeful look on his face. Instead Draco decided to be honest, but elusive.

"It's better than I had imagined," he'd replied, gazing at Harry with a small smile.

Harry looked immensely pleased, and somewhat relieved, by that before he disappeared to fetch them both some refreshments.

When the match was over they left the stadium, Harry was practically skipping, because his team had won, and headed out the way they had come. Once in the shelter of the trees Harry stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, looking awkwardly shy.

"Football always leaves me with an urge for beer. Fancy a drink?" he asked Draco.

"I have been missing my pub today," Draco admitted.

"Come on, then."

Grabbing Draco's hand, Harry Apparated them away.

* * *

A beer and a half later at their usual table in the familiar surroundings and Draco was feeling much more relaxed and comfortable. They were chatting and laughing and generally enjoying each other's company.

"Why did we decide to leave the pub?" he mused out loud quietly to himself.

"Huh?" Harry had heard him. "You didn't want to leave the pub?"

"It's not that," Draco said quickly, noting the worried frown on Harry's face. "It's just, well, we didn't have much of a chance to talk at all while watching the football."

"Oh. I guess not."

The creases in Harry's forehead smoothed out. Draco almost sighed with relief; his quick thinking had managed to get him out of having to upset Harry.

"But you did enjoy the match, right?"

Or maybe not.

"I-" Draco started, thinking he could just say he'd loved it to make Harry happy. But looking across the table into those green eyes, so open and earnest, Draco knew he couldn't lie. Not to Harry.

He took a large gulp of his beer, starting to wish he'd ordered something a little stronger, and began again.

"To be honest, Harry, I didn't really enjoy the football match." He paused, inwardly cringing at how impossible it was to say this gently. "At all."

Harry's face seemed to fall in slow motion. All that was left was confusion and hurt. They sat silently for a few seconds.

"You didn't like it?" When Harry finally spoke his voice was calm and even, if a little quiet.

Draco looked apologetic, but nodded.

"You spent hours sitting there unhappy, not enjoying yourself? Why didn't you tell me! Fuck, Draco, I'm sorry! I-"

This, this self-deprecating ramble, was what Draco had wanted to avoid. He decided to cut Harry off before he could pick up too much steam.

"I didn't say I was unhappy, I said I didn't enjoy the football. There is a difference."

"But, if you weren't enjoying the football, how could you have been happy?" Harry's frown was back and Draco almost felt like smiling, because this time the frown was quizzical.

"I hadn't wanted to admit this, damn you Potter," Draco said as he felt the blush rise in his cheeks, "but there _was _something much more enjoyable to watch than the football."

If it was possible, Harry's frown deepened.

"Do you mean when Carew took his shirt off? Because that doesn't happen very often, and he did get a yellow card for it."

"No, Harry- Wait, someone took their shirt off?" Suddenly Draco was regretting not paying more attention to the game.

"You didn't see it? What were you watching? You didn't fall asleep, did you?" As he spoke Harry's voice got more urgent and slightly desperate; he really was imagining the worst. Next he'd think Draco had snuck off and not even been present at the match.

"You, Harry." Draco decided to just cut to the chase. "I spent the majority of the time happily watching you."

"Me?"

Although he was still blushing, Draco smiled. It was a good job he found Harry's confused expression cute, because he really did wear it a lot.

"Yes, _you_, you idiot," said Draco fondly. "You are the only reason I went to the blasted football match, and even though I have discovered I have no interest in watching a group of fully grown men kick a ball around, I also discovered that I very much enjoy watching _you_ watch football."

Draco was pretty sure he was as red as a beetroot right now and swiftly grabbed their gasses and escaped to the bar.

Returning with two full pints, Draco instantly spotted the grin on Harry's face.

"I'm sure I don't want to know what you're suddenly smiling about," he said as he put down the drinks and took his seat.

"I've decided it's your turn to take me out." Harry's grin was definitely the wrong side of smug.

"There is a catch to this, isn't there?"

"Well, it seems a football match makes a pretty awful first date," Harry explained. Draco's breath may have hitched a little at Harry actually calling it a date. "So I think you should show me how it's really done."

"So, you're inviting yourself out on a date with me?" Draco surmised.

"Er, when you put it like that it sounds a little pushy, but yes." Harry's grin had suddenly become that wide nervous one from earlier in the day.

"That's certainly one way to ensure yourself a second date," laughed Draco. "Okay, Potter, challenge accepted."

* * *

Harry was starting to regret convincing Draco to organise their second date. He was going to embarrass himself, he just knew it. He should have just apologised for taking Draco to the football and then offered to take him to the cinema or something instead.

Remembering the football still made Harry wince. How could he have been so stupid? Taking Draco to a football match, and on their _first date? _He really was awful at this. After apprehensively admitting he wanted to be with Draco, he had simply been overjoyed to hear Draco say he felt the same way. Instantly he had invited Draco along to the very next thing he possibly could, which just happened to be a football match the following week. He'd not given any thought to whether Draco would actually _like _it or not.

Rolling his eyes and sighing in frustration at himself, Harry finally gave up on his internal self-berating. It was too late now, he couldn't go back and change it. And on the plus side, Draco had allowed himself to be tricked into going on a second date with Harry. Though technically Harry was going on a date with Draco, what with Draco organising the whole thing and Harry simply having to turn up "looking dashing", as Draco had instructed. And how in the hell was Harry supposed to achieve that? He'd let Hermione pick his outfit for him, due to his complete lack of fashion sense, but he was still plenty worried. Dashing was something Harry would just never be able to pull off. He was awkwardly clumsy at worst, endearingly ungraceful at best. Oh, and he had eternally tousled hair.

With a strong hunch that, despite the extra time he had taken on his hair, his appearance was going to be mercilessly mocked by Draco, Harry shrugged to himself and left for his date.

* * *

As he took in the front of the Le Repas Magique, Harry started to regret insisting Hermione choose his outfit from the clothes he already own instead of letting her purchase those robes she had shown him in Twilfit and Tatting's. This restaurant wasn't just fancy, it was decadent. The large semi-frosted windows had tiny lights in them, allowing passers-by to make out the shapes of the people inside, but not showing enough detail to invade the privacy of the diners. The name of the restaurant was scribed above the door in a simple, elegant font and there was nothing else marring the beauty of the building.

Feeling the dread pool like lead in his stomach and cursing the fact that he had no time to go home and change, let alone go shopping for the appropriate attire, Harry took a deep breath and headed inside.

He entered into a narrow hallway and the restaurant's greeter smiled at Harry from behind his podium.

"Er, I have a date," Harry said, unsure.

"Name?" asked the man.

"Harry Potter," he replied automatically.

The greeter looked down at the list of names on his clipboard, then looked back up at Harry with a slight frown.

"We have no reservation under that name, sir."

"Oh! No, sorry," stumbled Harry, already feeling like a fool. "It'll be under Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Scanning the list again quickly, the man soon smiled and gestured into the restaurant.

"Very good. This way, sir."

He followed the greeter down the short hallway, into the main area and through a sea of tables. Harry could feel his face reddening and thought he may have broken his own record for how quickly he had managed to embarrass himself.

They were approaching a corner table towards the back of the large room, and Harry could see that Draco was already seated, apparently reading through the menu. Even a swift glance was enough to tell him how impeccably dressed Draco was. Harry began unconsciously tugging at the sleeves of his robes.

Nodding his thanks to the greeter, Harry plonked himself down opposite Draco and smiled.

"Chosen your food, yet?" he asked.

"Good evening, Harry, it's wonderful to see you, too."

"Um-" Harry looked sheepish. "Hello Draco, how are you?"

"I'm fine." He smiled back at Harry. "And this is the wine list, not the menu. This is far more important."

"It is?"

"Yes, you uncouth git."

Harry just shrugged.

"Here's the menu," said Draco, handing Harry a large tome that apparently held the meal choices.

Opening the menu at random Harry skimmed his eyes down the list and realised he was in trouble. Everything, the entire menu, was in French. Cargolade? Gibelotte? _Demoiselles de Cherbourg?_ What was this shit?

"We'll start with the Pessac Léognan," Draco said to the waiter that had appeared. "Then the Minervois with the main." He handed the wine menu to the waiter, who gave a curt nod and left.

"Pez sack leo none?" Harry had to wonder how the hell Draco knew all this French.

"Pessac Léognan," Draco repeated. "A delicious wine from Bordeaux with a cocoa-like aroma, you should like it." He winked at Harry.

"Er, Draco, this is all a bit intimidating. I mean, I can't even read the menu." He indicated the tome he was still holding and let his eyes travel over the list of food. "Oh, hang on! Foie Gras, I've heard of that!" he cried in triumph.

"Yes, but surely you don't want to order it?" Draco asked, shocked.

"Why not?"

"Well, as posh as it may be, it's still the liver of a force-fed goose that no doubt choked to death on its own vomit." he replied matter of factly.

Harry swallowed audibly. He suddenly had a strong urge to run screaming from the restaurant to the nearest chip shop. Instead, he took a deep breath, resisted the urge to vomit himself, and handed the menu back to Draco.

"You order for me," he stated. "Just don't tell me what I'm eating."

Draco took the menu, chuckling.

As soon as the wine arrived Harry swiftly drank his first glass full and poured himself another. He didn't usually drink wine, but he decided he could use whatever alcohol was available right now. Draco just seemed to be under the impression that Harry approved of this fancy Pez Sack, or whatever it was called.

When the waiter came to take their order Harry found himself lost in the rapid-fire French that went back and forth between Draco and the man scribbling their order down. There were also a lot of exaggerated hand motions for some reason that Harry couldn't fathom.

"Since when do you speak fluent French?" Harry asked when the waiter finally left.

"Since always," said Draco with a casual one shoulder shrug.

"How come I didn't know this?"

"Well we weren't exactly friends, were we?"

"I guess," acknowledged Harry. "But how? Why?"

"I'm a Malfoy," answered Draco as if that explained everything. And Harry supposed it did.

While waiting for their food Harry found himself fidgeting in his robes, he was too hot and rather uncomfortable. He continued to gulp his wine as Draco amused himself by trying to teach Harry some French. All Harry really managed to get to grips with was 'au revoir', which is what he'd be saying to anything French he came across in future.

Eventually a plate, of what he could only assume to be food, was placed in front of Harry.

"What's this?" he asked Draco.

"It's your hors d'œuvre." Draco kept responding to Harry's questions as if the answers were obvious and simple instead of strange and confusing.

"My what?" Harry asked again, looking down at the minuscule bits of sustenance he probably wouldn't even be able to taste.

"Hors d'œuvre; appetiser."

"Er-" Harry knows he's about to prove, once again, what a philistine he is. "Why are they so small?"

"They are simply to stimulate your appetite."

"But my appetite doesn't need stimulating. I wouldn't have come out to dinner if I wasn't already hungry."

"Just eat it, Potter." Draco's voice was light and he smiled, but the use of Harry's surname let him know Draco was probably starting to get tired of Harry's constant bafflement.

For the rest of the meal Harry ate and drank what was he was given without questioning it, it all tasted okay, so he couldn't really complain. He was pretty sure he had used the wrong fork at some point and he somehow got lost trying to find the toilet _and_ on his way back to their table. He also managed to stick his elbow in his soup, but that had made Draco laugh so freely that Harry couldn't count it as a failure.

Despite the disaster that was he during the date, Harry had enjoyed seeing Draco in this environment; his natural environment. Draco was relaxed, yet alert and completely in control. He'd also learnt Draco was even smarter than he had originally thought, he spoke fluent French, for fuck's sake, who knew?

Finally the bill came. Draco, insistent that as this was his date, he would pay, took care of it quickly and lead Harry out of the restaurant and back into the night.

"A quick pint at the pub before I escort you home?" Draco asked.

"You're going to escort me home?" Harry grinned, the date had suddenly taken a welcome turn.

"It is the gentlemanly thing to do." Draco held out his elbow and Harry took it.

* * *

As it was already rather late, they remained seated at the bar and stuck to their plan of one beer. After taking only a small sip of his own, Draco spoke.

"So it must be your turn again, now."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, wiping his beer moustache off his upper lip.

"To arrange the next date." Draco looked slightly downcast. "You didn't enjoy yourself tonight, I'm sorry."

Shit, he knew he had made a fool of himself, but Harry didn't think he'd let on just how unnerved he had been the whole evening.

"No, Draco, it's not-" Harry tried to explain.

"It's okay, it's my fault." Draco shushed him with small motion of his hand. "I was too busy trying to impress you that I didn't even consider the possibility that what I had in mind might frighten you."

"I wasn't frightened!" Harry quickly declared.

"I didn't mean-" began Draco, before stopping and starting again. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry."

"Well, don't be. I experienced something, ate things and learnt a lot that I wouldn't have otherwise." Smiling, Harry took a long drink of his beer.

"What was it you learnt? Because it certainly wasn't any French..." Draco trailed of slightly, laughing.

"French, schmench." Harry stuck out his tongue at Draco. He had perhaps drank more wine than was strictly necessary. "I learnt that I'm not a fan of fancy restaurants. I learnt what Foie Gras is." He wrinkled his nose in disgust at that memory. "And I learnt that you, Draco Malfoy, are a rather incredible man."

Harry enjoyed watching the blush that crept over Draco's cheeks, and revelled in the knowledge that he could cause such a thing to happen.

After he quickly finished his beer, Harry pulled Draco off of his stool and towards the door.

"Come on, you've got to get me home."

Apparating them both to his doorstep, Harry suddenly felt more awkward than he had all night. Should he invite Draco inside for coffee? Was that too clichéd? How about a cup of tea?

"I look forward to seeing what you come up with for our next date, Harry." Draco cut through Harry's internal rambling before it got too intense.

"I have an idea," said Harry with, what he hoped was, an air of mystery. In truth he had no fucking clue.

Draco just smiled, and Harry absently noted that the expected jibe at his appearance had never come.

They stood quietly, just looking at each other for a few moments, until Draco took a small step closer to Harry.

"Even though you didn't completely enjoy the bulk of the evening, I'm hoping I can leave you with something to think about until our next date," whispered Draco.

"And what's that?" Harry was suddenly more nervous than he had been all night.

"This," said Draco simply as he leaned closer and pressed his lips lightly to Harry's.

* * *

As he got ready for tonight's date, Draco let his mind wonder back to last week. After he succeeded in dragging Harry completely out of his comfort zone by taking him to Le Repas Magique, he thought he had managed to make up for it by initiating their first kiss. On Harry's doorstep, no less! That was the kind of sweet romantic cliché you were supposed to end dates on, wasn't it? Regardless, Draco had certainly enjoyed it. Remembering the content and far-away look on Harry's face once the kiss had ended, Draco had to believe that Harry had enjoyed it just as much.

Now here he was about to go out, of a sort, on his third date with Harry. Already this date felt different. Although Draco knew where he was going, he had no idea what they would be doing. It was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. Since the kiss, it felt like they had moved on a stage. Tonight was more serious, it meant more. And suddenly Draco decided he was definitely more nervous than he was excited.

For the first time Draco found himself wondering if he should take anything to the date to give to Harry. Flowers seemed a little excessive and redundant, and he didn't want to bring wine and potentially add insult to injury regarding the previous week's date. Instead he had settled on a few bottles of the beer they usually drank at the pub. Draco figured it was thoughtful and, most importantly, safe. Harry and Draco both liked them, and they would definitely get drank.

Wondering one last time what on Earth Harry had planned, but thankful there would be beer on hand, Draco thought once again about that kiss and Apparated.

* * *

Appearing in the exact spot he had left Harry at last week, Draco subconsciously smoothed out the front of his robes. Taking a deep, anticipatory breath, he raised his hand and knocked on Harry's front door.

In a matter of seconds the door was flung open and there stood Harry. He had the biggest, brightest smile on his face and Draco thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Draco," greeted Harry.

"Harry." Draco nodded and returned Harry's smile with one of his own.

They stood in silence for a few moments just grinning stupidly at each other until Draco decided the beers were getting too heavy.

"Are you going to invite me in or are we having this date on your doorstep?"

"Yes! Of course, sorry. Come in." Harry stepped back and allowed Draco to pass.

"I brought beer," commented Draco as he made his way down Harry's entrance hall.

"Oh, excellent. That'll go perfectly." Harry unburdened Draco of the beer and lead the way into the kitchen.

"Go perfectly with what?" Draco asked cautiously, acutely aware he had no idea what they were going be spending the evening doing in Harry's home.

Harry placed the beer down on the kitchen counter and turned to face Draco, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"Well," he began, "as I got an insight into your culinary habits last week, I thought I would return the favour."

"Are you going to cook?" Draco smirked; this should be fun.

"Oh no, Draco. _We _are going to cook." A smirk appeared on Harry's face as Draco's slipped off completely.

Draco didn't cook. Draco warmed things up occasionally, or opened a packet of something he could eat cold, but more often than not he ordered in or ate out. Undaunted by Draco's sudden onset of terror, Harry continued.

"This is also a magic free kitchen, so I hope you're comfortable handling knives."

"We're cooking the Muggle way?" Draco hadn't known his dread could extend any deeper.

"Yep." Harry smiled at him. "Hand me your wand, I'm going to put them in the other room so we can't cheat."

"Can I at least cast a Cooling Charm on the beers, first?" Draco pleaded. "I have a feeling I'm going to need them."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but nodded his consent. He cast the Charm immediately and then Harry disappeared with both their wands. While he waited, Draco popped open one of the bottles, closed his eyes and gulped a hefty swig. As the cold beer ran down his throat and settled in his belly Draco felt calmer. He opened his eyes as Harry re-entered the room.

"Okay. What are we cooking?"

"Curry," replied Harry instantly.

"I don't like curry," Draco said bluntly, pulling a face.

"What kind of curries have you had?" Harry frowned at him

"Take away, why?"

"Ha!" cried Harry triumphantly. "Take away curries are shit! All runny and bland. You'll like my curry."

"You seem pretty confident," admonished Draco. "What if I hate cooking and hate your curry and this ends up being another awful date?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Draco regretted them.

"I-" Harry's joyful energy he'd had since the moment he opened the door disappeared. "I hadn't thought of that. I'm sorry, do you want-"

"No, I'm sorry," Draco interrupted. "I shouldn't have said that, I shouldn't be so negative." He walked over to stand in front of Harry and held his hands. "It won't matter if I don't like cooking, or if I don't like curry. Any date with you could never be awful."

Draco knew he was blushing, from anger at himself for saying something so stupid in the first place, and embarrassment at being so emotionally open. Partly to distract himself and partly to make Harry smile again, Draco lifted Harry's chin up and gently kissed him. Moving back after only a few seconds, Draco smiled self-disparagingly.

"Now I'm done being a soppy bastard, shall we cook?"

As Harry moved away to gather the ingredients, Draco was quite sure he heard him mumble something along the lines of 'Hope you're not done being a soppy bastard.'

While Harry hurried around the kitchen collecting pans and cutlery, Draco was given the task of chopping the onions. This was something he felt fairly confident about, assuming it would be similar to preparing potion ingredients, and began peeling and slicing the two large onions Harry had given to him. What he hadn't expected was for it to cause his eyes to water. He paused in his chopping to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You all right there?" Harry asked.

"Yes, yes, onions are very similar to Gurdyroot and I've chopped enough of those for various potions." He paused, blinking as his vision beginning to go blurry through his watery eyes. "Of course Gurdyroot has never made me cry, though."

"Sorry about that," chuckled Harry. "They always have that effect on me, why do you think I gave them you to do?"

Draco glared at Harry, but it must not have held the same indignation with a tear-streaked face, as Harry just laughed more.

"You have done an excellent job on those, though. Here," Harry handed Draco some more vegetables. "you chop the peppers, tomatoes, okra and cauliflower while I start frying the onion and garlic."

"So I'm doing all the work here?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Draco rolled his eyes and sliced into a pepper as Harry threw the perfectly chopped onions into the frying pan.

Once the garlic and peppers were added to the pan things really heated up and oil began spitting out at Harry. Draco suggested he put an apron on, but Harry shook his head.

"I only own novelty aprons and I'm not going to purposely embarrass myself by wearing one."

"Oh, come on, you can't say something like that and then not show me!" Draco protested.

Harry laughed, but shook his head once again. Draco pouted.

"One day, when I'm very very drunk, I promise to show you my collection of silly aprons. Okay?"

"You have a _collection _of aprons!" Draco didn't know whether to laugh or hide at this information.

"I did say that, didn't I?" said Harry, cringing. "I like to cook, okay? And people insist on buying me aprons for Christmas and birthdays and- and I would appreciate it if the ground could open up and swallow me, now."

"Not happening, Potter." Draco grinned as he fetched a beer and handed it to Harry. "Take this and consider dusting off your _collection_ instead."

Soon enough all the vegetable preparation was complete and Draco simply stood back with a second bottle of beer and watched as Harry added his herbs and spices, humming under his breath and stirring the curry. He took particular note of the flush of Harry's skin the heat was producing and the way Harry's tongue would sneak out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. He smiled to himself as he realised Harry-watching was becoming quite the hobby of his. Draco suddenly decided that cooking, just like football, wasn't so bad if he could just sit back and admire Harry.

All too soon Draco was given another job to do, and frying chapatis seemed much more high-risk than slicing vegetables. While Draco concentrated on his new task, very concerned about burning his fingers, as well as the food, Harry had taken the pan of rice and was beginning to serve up.

Suddenly there was a crash, a splash and a lot of swearing.

"Fuck! Shit! Bastarding-tit-wank!"

Forgetting the chapatis Draco rushed over to Harry, who was grabbing at his trousers, having just spilt hot water on his legs. Draco grabbed at his pocket for his wand, only to come back empty handed. Both their wands were in another room.

"My wand, I don't-" began Draco, before he stopped short at the sight in front of him.

Harry was hopping from one foot to the other, unabashedly yanking his trousers off. Once free he splashed some cold water from the tap onto his legs and eventually sank down into a chair at the kitchen table. Draco's eyes felt like they might pop out of their sockets. Even though he was convinced he had lost the power of speech, he opened his mouth to talk again.

"Who knew you had such a filthy mouth, Potter?" Draco winced at the affronted look Harry shot him. He should have asked if Harry was okay, or if Draco could do anything, but he had been completely distracted by the fact that Harry was _in his underwear. _"Sorry. Where are our wands? I'll heal the burns for you."

"It's okay," said Harry as he stood. "I need to go get another pair of trousers anyway. I'll do it on my way."

"You could always hide your modesty under one of those aprons you mentioned?" Draco cocked a suggestive eyebrow.

"I haven't had that much to drink, Draco," replied Harry, laughing.

"It was worth a try."

As Harry left the kitchen Draco caught a wiff of something burning and whirled around quickly. His abandon chapati was burnt to the griddle. Sighing, Draco scrapped the ruined chapati off and slapped a fresh one on. He briefly wondered about going in search of his wand and using it to heat the chapatis perfectly, but knew Harry had hidden them in another room, out of sight to avoid temptation. Plus presenting Harry with flawlessly cooked chapatis would be as good as admitting Draco had not only cheated and used magic, but had gone rummaging around Harry's house to do it.

Harry returned quickly in a clean pair of trousers. His cheeks were as rosy as ever, though from the kitchen heat or embarrassment, Draco wasn't sure. The curry was served quickly and they finally sat down together to eat.

"Moment of truth," said Harry, smiling. "I hope you like it."

"You hope I like it? You were a lot more sure of yourself earlier."

"That was before my onions made you cry and before I spilt hot water on myself and had to speed-strip in my own kitchen."

"Speed-strip?" Draco grinned, taking a well-earned bite of curry. "That's a sport I would like to see more of."

Harry laughed, but ducked his head quickly as he started on his own food.

After a few mouthfuls Draco put down his fork.

"Damn you, Potter."

"What? What is it?" Harry looked up quickly. "Don't you like it?"

"Quite the opposite, Harry," Draco begrudgingly admitted. "I actually rather love it."

Harry's face lit up instantly and Draco couldn't help but smile.

"You love it? Ha! You love it!" Harry's elation was a joy to behold. At least until he flailed his arms out wildly and knocked his glass off of the table. He flinched as it smashed on the floor. "Shit, I'm so clumsy today."

"Have you been slipping shots of vodka when I wasn't looking?" asked Draco with a smirk, thinking back to the last time Harry had gotten clumsy around glassware.

"No," Harry groaned in embarrassment. "I haven't touched the stuff since that day."

Standing up, Harry grabbed a tea towel and bent over the broken glass.

"Let me help you," said Draco as he moved to stand, but Harry held out his hand.

"No, it's my mess. You enjoy your food." And with that Harry disappeared under the table.

Draco waited a few beats and then ducked down level with Harry, bringing his plate of curry with him.

"Are you sure I can't help?" he asked, ramming a fork full of rice into his mouth.

"Wow, you must really love that curry if you can't even put it down." Harry still seemed inordinately pleased that Draco liked the food. "And no, I'm almost done now, thanks."

Quickly, Draco popped back above the table, grabbed Harry's plate, sank back to the floor and handed the meal to Harry. Draco then grinned before taking another trip to the surface to grab their beers. Finally he settled himself on the floor next to Harry and resumed eating.

"You're an odd one," stated Harry, though he made no move to get up.

They continued to eat, sat cross-legged next to each other on the floor enjoying the impromptu picnic under the kitchen table. After a few quiet minutes Draco spoke up.

"So Harry," he began cautiously. "Bastarding-tit-wank?"

* * *

Once the meal was over Draco talked Harry into relenting on the magic free kitchen rule, and they used their wands to do the dishes. Overall, Draco decided cooking was rather too much work, and didn't think he would be learning how his oven worked any time soon.

It seemed silly to leave the comfort of Harry's house to go to the pub for one drink, so they settled rather closely together on the couch in the living room with the last two beers.

"So where does tonight rank in our dating league?" asked Harry.

"Well," Draco began seriously. "Top points for date location; your home allowed for a relaxed, friendly and intimate evening."

Harry, obviously pleased, nodded for Draco to continue.

"Even scoring on the date activity; although the food was delicious, there were plenty of mishaps getting there." Draco paused for a second, frowning. "Though I did get to see you in your underwear, so regardless of any other factors this would have to be our best date yet."

Harry punched him lightly on the arm and Draco laughed.

"It's still your turn next," he told Draco. "After putting no thought into the football date, it was too much pressure trying to think of something we'd both enjoy."

"I think tonight worked better than our previous dates because..." Draco trailed off, unsure if he should admit how much he had enjoyed basically playing house with Harry this evening. "Because it was just us. No outside influences or expectations, nothing to dictate how we should act or feel."

"Yeah," Harry concurred. "I reckon that's why we have such a good time at the pub, too. We can relax and be ourselves. It's just us."

Draco smiled and pulled Harry close, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him.

"Just us," he whispered against Harry's lips. "I like that."

* * *

Harry had spent the whole week smiling about his date with Draco. He had worried about where to take Draco and what to do that would impress him, but that they would still both enjoy. Failing to think of anything good enough, he'd instead decided to keep it simple. And boy was he glad about that! He and Draco really did just... work. Without the pressure of having to enjoy a certain activity or place, they were free to enjoy each other.

Although spending an evening in and being just the two of them was wonderful, Draco still wanted to take Harry out this week. He had simply told Harry that he just wanted them to have fun without having to completely withdraw from society. He had no idea where Draco was taking him or what kind of fun they would be having. Harry could think of one type of fun he'd like to start having with Draco, but it wasn't the sort of thing they should be doing within the public eye.

They had spent a long time kissing and exploring each other on Harry's sofa that evening, and even though their hands had stayed above the waist and no clothing was removed, Harry had gotten hard every time he'd entered the room since. He was coming to realise that he had never wanted anything as much as he currently wanted Draco, both physically and emotionally.

Owls had been exchanged more this week than in previous weeks. It was wonderful being in touch with Draco so frequently, but Harry found himself missing the sound of Draco's voice; his toneless sarcasm, his slightly husky laugh, even his arrogant drawl. He was missing all of Draco more with each passing week. The anticipation of seeing him was building after each subsequent date. Harry may not have been the most self-aware person, but even he knew what that meant. He just hoped Draco felt the same way.

* * *

Draco picked him up early Saturday afternoon. Harry was glad to see him dressed casually, at least for Draco, as it meant they wouldn't be going anywhere too upmarket or extravagant. His relief must have shown on his face.

"Worried I was going to be dragging you off shopping in Knightsbridge or something?" Draco asked.

"Or something," mumbled Harry.

"Pfft." Draco dismissed Harry's uncertainty. "That would be far too boring."

"So where _are_ we going?"

Draco just grinned and held out his arm for Harry to take, in a silent invitation to allow Draco to Apparate them to their destination.

Eyeing Draco suspiciously Harry stepped outside and closed the door.

"This better be good," he whispered warningly as he took Draco's arm and they both disappeared with a loud pop.

When they reappeared Harry was shocked by the brightness. He had to blink repeatedly to stop his eyes from watering and to readjust to his surroundings. When he could finally look around without the fear of going blind, he saw that the scintillation that had assaulted him was the sun reflecting off a huge shiny metal building. The huge shiny metal building that Draco was now leading him towards.

"Draco, where..." He trailed off uncertainty.

"Welcome to Magic Munchies Manufactory!" Draco declared happily.

"Welcome to what now?"

"Magic Munchies Manufactory. Don't tell me you've never heard of it?" Draco was incredulous.

In response Harry simply looked at Draco and pulled a 'What the hell are you on about?' face.

"You have eaten how many Fizzing Whizbees and Acid Pops in your life? Haven't you ever wondered where they were _made_?"

"Wait, so-" Harry's gaze shifted from Draco to the shiny building and then back again, his eyes wide as he imagined what was inside. "It's a real-life Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory?"

"Who's Willy Wonka?"

"Never mind, let's go!" Harry was suddenly the one tugging Draco towards the building.

A magic sweets factory! Harry instantly felt like an excited five-year-old. He wondered if there would be a room in which everything was edible, or a chocolate river, or Oompa-Loompas! He was practically skipping by the time they reached the entrance, and he didn't even care that Draco was laughing at him.

They headed inside hand-in-hand and Harry gasped in wonder. The entry room was large and the walls were plastered with sweet wrappers. A quick glance around was enough for Harry to spot the wrappers for Jelly Slugs, Fudge Flies, Licorice Wands and many more. There were wrappers of the current designs, and as his eyes travelled higher he saw what must be the older wrapper designs. It was so fascinating, he could have stayed there staring at the walls all day. Draco, however, had other ideas. Having left Harry to gape at the walls, Draco had paid for them to join one of the factory tours and was now pulling Harry towards a large door marked "Fabulous Factory Fun!"

"They like their alliteration around here, don't they?" he asked Draco.

Joining a small group, mainly consisting of parents and children, Harry felt a little out of place. He wondered how many adults usually went on this factory tour for their own pleasure, without children in tow. There was also a wizard at the front of the group dressed in violet coloured robes holding a clipboard, who Harry assumed to be their tour guide. His suspicions were confirmed when the man whistled to get everyone's attention.

"Welcome to Magic Munchies Manufactory." His voice was slow and monotone, as thought this was the thousandth time he'd lead the tour. "My name is Trevor and I will be your tour guide today."

He reeled off a list of dos and don'ts for the tour, mostly along the lines of 'don't touch anything' and 'stay with the group'. Then he talked a little about the history of the factory and how they came to be the producers of such a wide array of wizarding sweets. Harry was quite interested because, as Draco had pointed out, he'd never even thought about where all the delicious and silly magical confectionery he ate was made. Draco, however, was tapping his foot in what Harry could tell all too well was boredom, bordering on irritation.

"Our first stop on the tour is the Chocolate Frog room, so if you'll all follow me." Trevor led the way down a hall and through another door.

"Chocolate Frogs are my favourite!" Harry said excitedly to Draco, and was happy to note the small but genuine smile he received.

In the Chocolate Frog room was the largest container of chocolate Harry had ever seen. It was in a liquid state that was constantly being stirred by giant hovering paddles, and all Harry could think about was how much he'd love to swim it. He turned to look at Draco and imagined _Draco _swimming in it. All that dark chocolate coating his pale body. He was just about to slip into a full on daydream when Draco caught him staring and raised an eyebrow in question. Harry began to blush as he shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned back to listen to the tour guide.

"What most people don't realise is that the magic isn't actually in the Chocolate Frog itself, but in the wrapper. The magic is activated when the wrapper is opened, allowing the animated Chocolate Frog to leap from its box."

Harry had never really thought about how the magic that made the Chocolate Frogs jump might work; he'd always been too busy thinking about how tasty they were once he caught it.

With not much to see in the Chocolate Frog room they quickly moved on to the next stop on their tour.

"And here we have Bertha," announced Trevor. "She's our magical machine assigned to designating the flavour of each and every Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean."

Cocking his head around the woman in front of him, Harry could see a line of flavourless beans on a conveyor belt headed into the mouth of the large green machine. On the other side, where the conveyor belt exited the machine, he could see the beans were a variety of colours and shades.

"Why is she called Bertha?" asked a young girl, as if on cue.

"That's a very excellent question," replied Trevor. "B.E.R.T.H.A actually stands for Beans of Every Random Taste, However Awful. She was built by Bertie Bott himself."

That earned Trevor a collective 'oooooh' from most of the group, while Harry received an elbow in the ribs from Draco.

"This isn't terribly exciting, let's sneak off and investigate on our own," he whispered in Harry's ear. He drew he head back slightly and waggled his eyebrows.

"I think we're supposed to stay with the tour guide..." Harry trailed off as he saw the mischievous look in Draco's eyes slip away and turn into one of resigned boredom.

It had been Draco's idea to come here, so Harry wasn't sure why he wasn't enjoying it. Maybe he'd been here before, when he was a child. Though Harry couldn't really imagine Malfoy senior on a tour of a sweets factory, no matter how magical it claimed to be. He had said he wanted them to have fun on this date, and Harry was certainly having a lot of that. Ah, of course. Draco had brought him here because he knew _Harry _would enjoy it. Harry smiled to himself about how innocently altruistic, but ultimately dumb Draco was. How could he think Harry would be able to enjoy himself if he knew Draco was bored to tears?

He was considering just suggesting they leave, perhaps grab an early dinner and go to the pub, when he spotted a door on the other side of Bertha that held the sign 'Restricted: Taste Testing Zone'. Now it was Harry's turn to elbow Draco in the ribs.

"Ow," moaned Draco, rubbing his side. "What?"

Harry simply waggled his eyebrows and motioned to the door with his eyes. He watched Draco's eyes follow the same path and grinned when they widened slightly, then snapped back to Harry.

In an unspoken agreement Harry and Draco quietly separated themselves from the group and inconspicuously made their way over to the door. Surprisingly they found it open. They slipped inside, closed the door behind them and immediately burst into twin fits of silent giggles. They leaned against each other as they slowly calmed down, and Harry was glad to be alert enough to feel Draco's laughter through his chest.

Once they stopped laughing they gathered their senses back together and took stock of the room they had entered. The restricted 'taste testing' zone. It was a medium sized room with a large bowl sat on top of a table off to one side. Above the bowl was a simple poster that read 'Prototype: Bertie Bott's Every Emotion Beans'. Looking into the bowl Harry saw an assortment of what looked exactly like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He looked at Draco, who looked back at him with a mildly curious expression. Then Draco raised both his eyebrows as if asking 'why not?' Harry shrugged in reply.

"I will if you will," he said to Draco.

"This should be interesting." Draco smirked.

They reached into the bowl together, each picking a bean at random. Draco's was dark red in colour while Harry's own was sunshine yellow. Harry suddenly felt wary about what they were about to do. If these beans were only prototypes, they might have unexpected side effects. Before he could think on it any longer or voice his worries, Draco winked at him, tossed his bean into the air and caught it in his mouth.

"Show off," grumbled Harry. He didn't want to be outstripped by Draco, and without any further thoughts to his doubts he unceremoniously shoved his bean into his mouth. It wasn't in his mouth for long, but Harry's tongue picked up a strong flavour of banana. He wondered if these weren't just miss-labelled Every Flavour Beans.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Draco all of a sudden. "I shouldn't have talked you into sneaking away from the group."

"What? What are you talking about?" asked Harry. Maybe these Emotion Beans _did _work.

"You were enjoying the factory tour. You should still be enjoying the factory tour. I feel crap for dragging you away from it."

"No, Draco, don't be silly. I think we did the right thing. This is perfect." Harry was starting to wonder what emotion his bean had been, but thought that it was a good one. He felt hopeful, like anything was possible.

"Oh Harry, there is so much I should apologise for." Draco stood still, eyes on the floor and slowly shaking his head.

"It's the beans, Draco! Don't worry. It'll wear off soon." Harry was confident they'd be fine.

"I hope so, I just feel so guilty."

Harry closed the short distance between them and enveloped Draco in an embrace. The beans' effects would wear off soon, and Draco would get a better one next time. Harry was sure of it.

They remained in that position for another few minutes, Harry whispering to Draco about how everything would be fine and that they'd done the right thing. Eventually Draco gently lifted his head from Harry's shoulder.

"I don't feel guilty anymore," he stated simply. "Do you still feel overly and irritatingly optimistic?"

"Er-" Harry thought about it for a second. He didn't really feel much different, but then he hadn't consciously noticed any change after eating the bean. He shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Let's go again, then!" Draco bound over the bowel and threw Harry a transparent amber coloured bean while taking a coral green coloured one for himself.

"Maybe we shouldn't. I mean, it wasn't very fun for you the first time, was it?"

"Oh, your optimism has _definitely _worn off." Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't want to end on a guilt trip, do I? Besides, where's your sense of adventure?" He waved his bean back and forth through the air in front of Harry's face, grinning.

"Fine." Harry sighed. "One more, then we're going to the pub"

"Bean, pub," conceded Draco. "On three. One, two."

They both popped a bean into their mouth and chewed. This time Harry was overwhelmed by the salty taste from the bean, and instantly began worrying what on Earth that flavour meant. Maybe they _had _done the wrong thing by sneaking in here. They could get caught, people would think they were trying to steal the magic for these prototype beans! Harry would be kicked out of the Aurors! _They'd be sent to Azkaban!_

"Draco, I think we should get out of here. What if we get-" He cut himself off abruptly as he looked up to see the hungry look on Draco's face. It wouldn't be good for Draco to have eaten a bean that made him hungry, he would end up eating loads more beans. Which made Harry worry about what would happen if you ate more than one bean at once. Would the emotions mix? Would you experience them one at a time? Or would they react with each other and send you crazy? He didn't want to find out.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are, Harry?" asked Draco in a low, suggestive voice.

_Oh. _Draco had _that _kind of hungry look on his face. This was bad. They were already going to be in enough trouble without adding indecent exposure to their list of crimes.

"We should leave," repeated Harry. "We said after the second bean we would-" This time Harry was cut off by Draco's lips pressing eagerly against his own. Draco's arms curled around Harry's waist and held him firmly against his body as his deepened the kiss. As wonderful as the kiss was, Harry still felt nervous, and he could also _feel_ how horny Draco was. This was very bad.

He tried to politely push Draco back, but Draco's hands simply slipped down to Harry's bottom and held on tighter, while his lips moved to kiss along his jaw line and down his neck. This was very very bad. Harry was just beginning to get nervous about how bad Draco would think he was in bed when the door burst open and a man in blue security robes stepped into the room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in here!" he cried.

* * *

A couple of hours later Harry and Draco could be found at their usual table in their usual pub surrounded by empty pint glasses that had held their usual beer.

"I can't believe we got kicked out!" Harry moaned for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Yes you can, because we did," explained Draco calmly. "We were caught enthusiastically making out in their secret bean room, what did you expect to happen? The security wizard to leave so we could finish?"

Harry took a moment to imagine that scenario in his mind, until Draco raised an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"I guess not," he mumbled into his beer. "But Draco, we were _banned. _We can never go back."

"No great loss." Draco shrugged.

"But I didn't even get to see the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum room!" whined Harry.

"If it means that much to you, we can Polyjuice up and go back next week."

"You'd do that? But you were so bored!"

Draco shrugged again. Finishing off his pint, he stood and headed to the bar for another.

While Harry waited for him to return he idly fidgeted, played with his empty glass and smiled to himself. Draco had been bored, fed up and humiliated in Magic Munchies Manufactory, but here he was volunteering to sneak back in with Harry. And all because Harry was sulking about the fact that he'd missed seeing how they made Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Harry could only conclude that Draco's feelings towards Harry must be just as strong as Harry's feelings for Draco. They may both have fucked up with their first dates, and had a couple of hiccups with their third and fourth dates, but they were both trying hard to make the other happy. As he thought about that, Harry realised how silly they were both being. They didn't need to try so hard to make each other happy; they did that well enough by just spending time together, being themselves.

He was still smiling when Draco returned with two full pints.

"What are you smiling about this time, Potter?" asked Draco as his sat down.

"Us," replied Harry simply.

"What about us?"

"About how stupid and great we are."

"You've lost me."

Harry laughed and took a sip of his beer.

"I hope I never lose you," he said.

Draco paused in the act of drinking his own beer and stared at Harry, a smile creeping its way onto his face. He was also blushing, Harry was pleased to note. He loved making Draco blush. He leaned over the table to kiss Draco soundly on the lips and wondered if he could make his blush a shade darker.

"You seemed to really enjoy that second bean?" he asked as his sat back in his chair, eyeing Draco shamelessly.

"Well yes," said Draco. And there it was; Draco's blush deepened.

"It was a pity we got interrupted, really..." Harry kept his voice innocent, but his eyes were heavy with suggestion.

"It was." Draco was no longer blushing, but smirking. "I had such exciting plans."

"Really? I'd like to hear about them."

"I can do better than that," said Draco as he stood up and moved around the table. "I can show you."

He pulled Harry out of his seat and into his arms, holding the back of Harry's head until their lips met. Draco tasted of beer, with a faint hint of guava. Harry thought it was possibly the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. When they broke apart Harry was gasping slightly, while Draco simply smiled at him.

Abandoning their unfinished beers, Harry took Draco's hand and led him out of the pub.

- End -


	3. Better Than Sex

Title: Better Than Sex

Rating: NC-17

Beta: simeysgirl

A/N: Sexy interlude of sorts. Written with the sole purpose of making simeysgirl smile. This is the third sexy story i have ever written _ever_ and my first slash, so... be gentle?

* * *

"Blurrrgh!"

Draco shook his head from side to side as Harry laughed.

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad," said Harry.

Holding out the glass to Harry, Draco raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Harry took the offered drink, rolled his eyes and took a sup. He regretted it immediately, and rushed to the sink to spit out what was left in his mouth.

"I think I'll call that one 'Vomit In A Glass'," commented Draco idly.

Harry's tongue hung from his mouth and a shiver ran through his body in disgust. He ran the cold tap and stuck his mouth under it, hoping to rid himself of the terrible taste of the home-made cocktail.

They had been at this for an hour and a half and other than Draco's recent 'Vomit In A Glass' concoction, Harry was having a lot of fun. The sideboard in the kitchen of his house was littered with bottles, ranging from the usual spirits (vodka, whisky, gin, bandy, rum) and liqueurs (cream, coffee, toffee, chocolate, aniseed) to the more uncommon, such as almost the entire Bols liqueur range, vermouth and absinthe. They also had a wide range of soft drinks, as well more than a few condiments.

It had been Draco's idea. He and Harry had been seeing each other for a few months now and tonight Draco had turned up on Harry's doorstep with his arms full of clinking bottles and a smirk on his face.

"Okay, I concede; it is that bad," admitted Harry as he turned off the tap and turned back to face Draco.

"I think I'll refrain from using ketchup in my cocktails from now on," said Draco as he moved past Harry to pour the remainder of his failed creation down the sick.

"Good idea." Harry nodded as he grabbed a fresh glass. "What next?" He looked around at all the alcohol on offer, pondering which might make an odd, but tasty combination.

"Let's do one each this round," suggested Draco as he reached for another glass himself. "We'll have a time limit, and see who can make the most delicious cocktail."

Harry grinned at the dare and noticed how Draco's grey eyes seemed to twinkle in response.

For the next five minutes they worked silently, deliberating which ingredients to use and in what quantities. Harry decided to keep his simple by mixing a few of his favourite Bols liqueurs and topping it up with lemonade. He didn't see what Draco had put in his, but he did notice the large bottle of vermouth being the last thing he put down when their time was up.

"Chin, chin!" called Draco as he lifted his glass in a toast.

"Bottoms up!" Harry laughed as he raised his own drink.

Their glasses chinked as they touched, then they each drank.

Draco's face scrunched up as his swallowed. He held the drink up to his face and eyed the liquid in his glass, sloshing it around a little.

"Hmm, 'Could Have Been Better'," he stated clearly.

Harry took a second sip of his own drink, slapping his lips together to savour the taste as he rocked his head from side to side in contemplation before shrugging.

"'Could Have Been Worse'," he said gleefully.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Swap," commanded Draco, holding out his drink for Harry to take.

Harry took the proffered drink and relinquished his own. He took a small mouthful, swirling it around on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, and smiled.

"I win!" he announced.

Draco was looking a bit sour, but the corners of his mouth quirked upwards as he nodded once in agreement.

"And as the winner, you are tasked with making your next cocktail _even better_."

"Fine," said Harry, followed by a put upon sigh.

He turned back to the bottles strewn across the counter and instantly reached for the cream liqueurs. He'd been putting off this idea, wanting to save it, and he figured now was the time. He added the chosen beverages to his glass and made a last minute decision. Looking around for the desired final addition he grinned when he spotted it and snatched it up.

"Mint sauce!" exclaimed Draco. "Are you serious, Potter? Where you not here 15 minutes ago to witness my ketchup fiasco?"

"We don't have a mint liqueur," Harry replied, shrugging.

Draco just shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of 'You're barmy'.

Once Harry had mixed the drink with a cocktail stick he looked at Draco, smiling as he took a tentative swig. As soon as the brew touched his lips and tongue Harry closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure. He had been sure this combination of drinks would taste good, but it was even better than he had imagined.

"Mmmm," hummed Harry as he placed the glass down, his eyes remaining closed. "'Better Than Sex'," he declared.

Slightly unnerved by Draco's silence, Harry slowly opened his eyes and found the other man staring at him with a look of shock and desire. After another few seconds Draco spoke.

"Even if it tastes like an orgasm in your mouth, it can not be better than sex."

Harry simply smiled and pushed the glass along the sideboard toward Draco. Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, Draco took the drink and raised it to his lips. Harry watched as Draco's eyes slid closed and his face relaxed. Although he'd stopped drinking the glass remained at his mouth. Harry wondered if he'd looked so effortlessly beautiful and uninhibited as he drank. He doubted it. Eventually Draco lowered the glass and opened his eyes to look at Harry. He had never seen such urgent longing in those eyes and it made his breath hitch.

"Impressive," acknowledged Draco, "but I can do better."

Harry froze as Draco closed the few steps between them and leaned in. He cupped Harry's face in his hands and pressed their lips together firmly. Harry closed his eyes and let out a moan as Draco's tongue slipped across his lips and eased its way inside Harry's compliant mouth. Harry could taste the cocktail, but far stronger was the urgent lust in Draco's kiss.

They stumbled backwards a few steps towards the door until Harry caught his foot on something he thought may be a tea towel. He lost his balance and grabbed hold of Draco's upper arms as they both tumbled to the floor. As his back hit the linolium Harry felt the wind knocked out of him. He opened his eyes to see Draco looking confused, as though he hadn't registered the fall. Shrugging, Draco leant down to capture Harry's lips once again.

Harry's hands seemed to move of their own accord from Draco's shoulders down his sides to grip his hips. He pulled Draco's hips downward as his pushed his own upwards, feeling their erections rub against each other through their clothing. Harry could feel Draco smirk against his lips.

"Someone's eager," purred Draco as his mouth moved across Harry's jaw.

When Draco's hands pulled at the hem of Harry's t-shirt Harry didn't hesitate. He lifted his body momentarily off the kitchen floor in order for Draco to drag the shirt over his head and discard it, before swiftly doing the same with his own.

A gasp escaped Harry as Draco's bare chest laid against his own and Draco began kissing his way down Harry's neck. His back arched and he cried out as Draco sucked at a sensitive spot on his neck before moving lower. As he reached Harry's nipples Harry found his hands reaching up and running through Draco's blond hair, tugging on it when Draco began nibbling his nipples.

Harry paid no mind as Draco's hands slipped between them to undo Harry's trousers, lost as he was in the pleasures of Draco's tongue. As Draco descended down Harry's chest and stomach, so Harry's trousers and underwear were lowered down over his hips and legs, eventually being removed entirely. Harry didn't even notice the chill from the kitchen floor, too caught up in expectantly waiting for Draco's lips to move that _bit _lower. Instead, Draco rose to remove his own trousers, and Harry groaned in disappointment. Draco let out a soft laugh and Harry heard him grab something off the counter then lay himself down beside Harry, naked.

Draco laid a hand on Harry's cheek and encouraged him to turn his head. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco looking back at him intently, searching Harry's face. He then smiled and leaned down to kiss Harry. Slowly, Draco's fingers began to retrace the path his lips had already taken. They gently caressed along Harry's jaw and down his neck, lightly trailing across his chest to tease his nipples. Harry pulled back and sucked in air as Draco pinched a nipple. Draco smiled lazily and Harry pulled his head down to kiss him hard, removing the smile as Draco returned the kiss.

Fingers continued to travel down Harry's body, ghosting softly over his hard penis, even as he moaned for more. He barely registered the noise of a bottle being unscrewed and the tell-tale glug-glug as liquid was poured. All Harry was concerned about was the feeling of Draco's finger as it traced gently over his hole between his spread legs.

"Draco-" called Harry softly before Draco's lips once again crashed against his own, letting out all the urgency the rest of his body craved.

Harry felt the pressure on his entrance increase as Draco's finger slowly slipped inside. Almost immediately Harry cried out and began pushing back again the intrusion, clamouring for more. Answering his unspoken plea, Draco soon added a second finger and curled them just _so_. Harry clawed at Draco's shoulders for something solid to hold on to as pleasure coursed through him.

As Draco continued to finger Harry, he once again worked his way down Harry's body, fervently showing his desire for Harry with his lips and tongue. This time, when Draco reached Harry's erection, he didn't pause. Harry felt his penis disappear into the soft warmth of Draco's mouth and he cried out in delight.

Before Harry had a chance to catch his breath Draco had removed both his mouth and fingers from Harry. Harry lifted his head to look questioningly down at Draco, only to see a familiar smirk on his lips as he disappeared between Harry's legs, slowly kissing, licking and nibbling his way across Harry's balls and down towards his hole. As Harry turned his head to the side before letting it fall back against the floor he caught sight of a bottle of cream liqueur off to the side just behind Draco. His laughter was impeded by the sensation of Draco's tongue and suddenly Harry wasn't sure which way was up. His arms reached above his head to grasp at the cupboard behind him to keep him grounded.

In the next minute, yet seemed like an eternity later, Draco sat up and quickly positioned himself between Harry's legs. Gazing up at him through half-closed eyes, Harry could clearly see the unbridled need in Draco's gorgeous face. It sent another jolt of desire through Harry's body and he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

"Now, Draco," he urged, pulling his knees up higher.

Draco wasted no time and Harry could soon feel the head of Draco's cock pushing against his arse and sliding inside. Harry's grip on the cupboard above his head increased and his eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted to the feeling of Draco being inside of him. It felt wonderful; he felt whole. His eyes snapped open again when he felt Draco's balls pressed against him, meaning Draco was completely inside him.

They remained like that for a few seconds; the only sound their heavy breathing. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Draco could hear his erratic heart's beat.

Eventually Draco leaned down over Harry, kissing his lips again after what feels like an age to Harry, but was probably only minutes. As their lips and tongues moved against each other, so Draco's hips gently began to move. He rocked slowly, easing his way in and out of Harry and Harry moaned in pleasure against Draco's lips, pushing his own hips upwards in a desperate plea for more.

Moving quickly, Draco sat back up and grasped Harry's hips and began fucking Harry hard. Harry threw his head back, hitting it against the floor and not even registering the pain. Using his grip on the cupboard as leverage Harry pushed back against Draco's thrusts as much as he could. Crying out as Draco hit his prostate on almost every stroke; Harry knew he couldn't wait much longer. Releasing one of his hands, he brought it down to stroke his cock, as hard and fast as Draco was fucking him.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Draco, covered in perspiration, a look of concentrated need on his face and mouth open, but silent. That was all it took for Harry's orgasm to take hold and explode out of him. He felt Draco's thrusts stagger slightly, but remain deep as he shuddered through his own release.

"Wow," said Harry, surprised at how hoarse he sounded; he didn't remember screaming that much. "Okay, that was better than 'Better Than Sex'."

Laughing, Draco fell forward propping himself up on his elbows so as not to crush Harry. They remained like that for a few minutes, just looking at each other, until Harry closed his eyes, suddenly heavy with sleep. He moaned quietly as Draco pulled out of him and moved away.

Harry barely registered Draco encouraging him to his feet, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist and draping one of Harry's across his shoulders.

Harry hardly noticed Draco slowly lead him towards the bedroom, pulling back the covers and settling him onto the mattress.

Harry didn't realise Draco was sliding into bed beside him, gathering Harry in his arms and gently kissing his temple.

Harry wouldn't remember falling asleep peacefully snuggled close to Draco.

- End -


	4. Drop by Drop

Title: Drop by Drop

Rating: NC-17

Beta: oflights

A/N: Written for simeysgirl who gave me the prompts bet, stripes, elephant, backpack, lift (as in NOT elevator!), gratutitous use of the word arse, bunny (and, having just checked my email, 'Asda', but i totally forgot about that one! SORRY). I also rolled over a couple of prompts from Bottoms Up and Awkward Moments. This _was_ supposed to be the final part of this series, but... it probably won't be. OOPS. Title from the Gloria Naylor quote: "We cannot tell the exact moment a friendship is formed; as in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses, there is at last one that makes the heart run over."

* * *

"For how long?" asked Harry, a pout clearly pulling at his bottom lip.

"Just the weekend," Draco reassured him. "You can stay with me Friday night, if you want. And I'll come by and see you on Monday evening. You won't even know I'm gone."

"But... I've seen you every Saturday since that first one. Every Saturday for five months since I walked in to this very pub and sat down over there." Harry pointed without looking to the bar on the other side of the pub.

Draco sighed. He knew Harry wasn't going to like him having to go away for the weekend, but he didn't think he was going to be quite so petulant about it.

"I know, Harry, but it's been arranged for months. I'm sorry."

"And you didn't think about inviting me along?" Harry asked, brightening slightly and looking hopeful.

"Harry, it's work..." Draco trailed off, knowing that was an awful excuse.

"Don't give me that crap, Draco. You're the boss. You can do whatever the hell you want." Harry frowned and downed the rest of his lager. "Is that it, you _don't_ want me to come?" he asked.

"Don't be a twat," chastised Draco. "The truth is, I really didn't think you'd want to." At Harry's questioning look, Draco elaborated. "You know Blaise is my Business Advisor, so he will obviously be coming. As well as Pansy—"

"Pansy!" Harry interrupted, incredulous.

Draco nodded. "She's my silent partner in the business, and pretty much stays out of it, but whenever we go scouting for a new location she insists on tagging along. She always has a feeble justification for coming, but it's only ever an excuse to get pissed." He paused to wonder if it wasn't about time he tried to encourage her to attend Alcoholics Anonymous, but as he took a dip swig of his third beer he decided that might be a tad hypocritical.

"So this is about me meeting your friends? Or, well, _not_ meeting your friends?"

Looking up at Harry from behind his beer, Draco saw the same worry and uncertainty he felt about this topic reflected back at him. They had skirted around the subject of each other's friends several time before; arranging dates and time together around commitments with friends to carefully avoid any awkward confrontations. It was truly difficult in the fact that they each already knew the other's friends, and those friends had such firmly held beliefs about each of them that would prove hard to overcome.

As Draco held Harry's gaze, he knew they couldn't go on pretending the elephant wasn't in the room. If he was serious about Harry—which he really fucking _was—_then they needed to move things forward sooner or later.

Deciding to stop hiding in his drink, Draco took a deep breath and, being thankful that he at least wasn't suggesting introducing Harry to his parents, pointed at the elephant and demand that they acknowledge its existence.

"Actually, maybe it's time you should meet my friends," he stated earnestly.

Harry's eyes widened a fraction in shock, but he was smiling when he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Draco gave a curt nod. "We can't hide from this for—" He wanted to say for_ever_, but didn't want to scare Harry too much in one day, so settled on, "much longer."

"Does this mean your weekend work trip gets to become a romantic getaway?" Harry was smirking, and it didn't suit him.

"For you maybe, _I_ will still have to work. But yes, this means you're welcome to come with me."

With a pleased smile Harry grabbed up both their glasses and made for the bar.

"This calls for a celebratory drink!" he called over his shoulder.

Draco wasn't sure if they were celebrating the fact that Harry would be coming with him for the weekend, or the fact that Harry would be meeting his hostile former classmates as Draco's boyfriend. He decided not to ask.

When Harry returned with two foaming glasses of lager they chinked them together with a loud "Cheers!" and drank deeply.

"You know this means you'll have to see my friends too, don't you?" asked Harry as he raised a challenging eyebrow.

"As much as I had hoped you'd forget you even _had_ friends, yes. I know I will have to meet with them and, Merlin help me, be _nice_ to them." Draco rolled his eyes and considered the merits of drowning himself in his glass of beer.

Harry attempted to hide his smile behind his hand. He failed.

"Does the, er," Draco faltered, almost resorting to petty nicknames. He started again. "Does Weasley even know about us? As I recall, his reaction to us even being friends sent you to this very pub to drown your sorrows in a vat of vodka."

"It wasn't a vat of vodka," said Harry. Then continued with a mumbled, "More like a couple of bottles."

Draco laughed, but insisted, "Answer the question, Harry. Does Weasley know we're dating?"

"I told him, yes. But he hasn't said a word about it. I think he's trying to ignore it or pretend it isn't happening."

"Well, in that case I will of course need to meet with him and snog your face off to enlighten him." Draco sniffed importantly. "It's the least I can do."

"You self-sacrificing, trouble-causing git," said Harry, shaking his head.

Draco grinned.

"You know it won't be as easy as all that," Harry stated.

"Oh, I know." Draco bit his lip while pondering how his friends would react to Harry. "If we thought becoming a couple was difficult, it will be nothing compared to getting to know the friends." He visibly cringed.

Harry only nodded, looking discontent.

It was as he was finishing his fourth beer of the early evening that Draco found himself tipsy enough to not only think of, but to actually voice an incredibly childish idea.

"If it's going to be that traumatic, let's make it interesting," he said, holding back his drunken giggles.

"Interesting how?" asked Harry with narrowed eyes.

"I will bet with you that I can get on better with your friends than you can with mine," said Draco as he leaned across the table on his elbows.

"Oh, you have got to be joking. You and Ron? A Malfoy and a Weasley? Whose seething hatred goes back generations, being friendlier than me and Pansy?" Harry laughed heartily. "Yeah, right."

"The same Pansy who demanded you be offered up to the bad guy on a silver platter? The same Pansy who has been my best friend since I was in nappies and will no doubt threaten you with a wide variety of hexes should you so much as make me frown? The same Pansy who—"

"Okay, okay," Harry interrupted Draco's long and impassioned (and long) Pansy speech. "I get it. It's pointless betting money on this, you realise?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry always was good at stating the obvious.

"So what _do_ you want to bet?" asked Harry as Draco moved around the table to sit beside him.

Draco smiled and leaned into Harry, letting his booze-addled mind bask in the warmth and comfort of him. He bent his head close and whispered in Harry's ear.

"I'll bet my arse."

* * *

As Draco Flooed into Harry's living room early on Saturday morning, he felt the first pang of nerves since agreeing to introduce Harry to his friends. It was stupid, he knew, because they had all already met. Blaise and Pansy had known for months that he'd been seeing Harry. At first they'd assumed it was just a physical thing—shagging the Chosen One and all—but as time had gone on, and the more they heard Draco gush about Harry, they had come to realise how serious this relationship was to Draco. He was sure his friends weren't going to hex Harry on sight, but he couldn't guarantee Harry's safety from their—quite frankly, vicious—verbal attacks. And this made Draco uneasy, because he didn't want to see Harry hurt, physically _or_ emotionally.

Glancing around the room he found that Harry wasn't in it. A quick look at his watch told Draco they had half an hour before they had to check into the hotel and meet Blaise and Pansy. No doubt Harry was upstairs frantically trying to pack at the last minute, never mind the fact that Draco had reminded him via owl every day this week to do his packing ahead of time.

With a sigh Draco dropped his overnight bag on the sofa and made his way to the stairs.

Before he had even reached the top Draco could hear draws being opened and slammed shut and the distinct muttering of choice curse words. Harry really did have a filthy mouth when he thought no one could hear him.

"Didn't I tell you in my last letter that if you weren't packed and ready to go I'd..." Draco forgot completely what he said he would do as he strode into Harry's bedroom.

The room was a complete mess. Harry wasn't the tidiest person on a good day, but Draco had always been able to find his way to the bed before. Now he could only assume the bed was somewhere under the highest pile of clothing. There were trousers, shirts and robes strewn on every available surface. As well as socks, shoes and—was that a pair of blue Nike jogging bottoms covered in paint splatter? He'd have to ask Harry about that later.

"We're only going for two nights, you know," said Draco once he had located Harry, clad only in boxers shorts, amongst the mess.

"Git," replied Harry. "I've already packed." He pointed to a small backpack on the floor next to the door.

"You do realise we're staying at a hotel, not going camping, don't you?" asked Draco with a frown.

"Yeah, so?" said Harry distractedly as he bent over and rummaged through some more clothes.

"Don't you have an overnight bag?"

"What's an overnight bag?"

"A bag for... when you stay overnight... somewhere." Draco had never had to explain the concept of 'overnight bag' to anyone before.

"So it's basically just a bag?" asked Harry as he straightened up and looked at Draco.

Draco huffed a little. Harry had no sense of class. How had Draco not realised he was dating a commoner before now?

"Whatever." Draco decided to let it slide, but buy Harry an overnight bag before he took him anywhere again. "If you're already packed," said Draco as he eyed the backpack with disdain, "then what's with this?" He gestured to the room at large. "Did your wardrobe explode?"

"No. It's..." Harry flopped down on the pile of clothes that used to be a bed. "I can't decide what to wear," he whined.

"Your fashion ineptitude has never prevented you from getting dressed before," stated Draco reasonably.

"I don't care about fashion," said Harry as he tipped his head back to look at Draco upside down and wrinkled his nose in apparent disgust.

"Oh, I know that," said Draco all too quickly; causing Harry to stick out his upside down tongue. "So then I ask again: What's with this?" He again indicated the mess.

"I want to make a good first impression to your friends." Harry turned his head away as he spoke, but Draco could imagine the blush.

So Harry was just as nervous as Draco was. Draco didn't know whether to be reassured or unassured by that fact. Either way, his first priority was to comfort Harry. As a Malfoy, he knew he would be awful at this, so he could only be his usual snarky self. Hopefully Harry would understand.

"Harry, dear," he said firmly and not a little condescendingly, "they've already met you. The first impression opportunity happened about 11 years ago. And considering how my friends and I treated you over seven of those 11 years, I'd say it didn't go very well."

Harry scowled up at Draco, but there was no venom in it.

"Wear whatever you want, Harry; it makes not a jot of difference to me. And my friends can keep their mouths shut, because they have no idea what's _under_ your clothes." Draco smiled and raised a lascivious eyebrow.

It had the desired effect; Harry smiled.

"Now come on," said Draco after a quick look at his watch. "We've only got 10 minutes to clear up this mess you call clothing and Apparate close to the hotel."

"Close to? Don't they have an Apparition point?" asked Harry as pulled on the clothing closest to him and he waved his wand. Every out of place garment began folding itself and finding a drawer, or hanging itself in the wardrobe.

"It's a Muggle hotel, so no."

"Muggle hotel? Where are we going?"

"Scotland. Inverurie, to be exact. My Business Advisor tells me they're crying out for a decent pub there. And don't be so shocked about the Muggle thing. All my pubs are Muggle, you know that."

"I know I know that," said Harry as his room finished tidying itself and he grabbed his backpack. "I also know I'll never get over it. How many pubs do you own, again?"

"Over 800," answered Draco matter-of-factly.

"Gordon Bennett!" cried Harry. No matter how many times Draco told him how successful his business was, Harry was always shocked. Draco was always mildly insulted.

They made their way out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

"And you'll be spending all day today looking at possible locations for this new one?" Harry's pout was back, but Draco kissed it away.

"Yes, but I plan on making full use of our hotel room by shagging you on every piece of furniture in it later tonight. If that cheers you up at all?"

Harry simply smiled.

* * *

After being rescued by Draco from the mess of his clothing-induced panic, Harry had Apparated with him to Scotland. They had checked swiftly into the hotel and after the briefest of greetings exchanged with Blaise and Pansy—which had almost unnerved Harry more than the epic showdown he had been expecting—they all left. Draco and Blaise left to view possible buildings and locations for the planned new pub and Pansy to do... whatever it was she wanted to be here for, Harry still wasn't quite sure.

So Harry had spent the morning in his and Draco's hotel room. He had brought a book and had attempted to read it, but found himself getting distracted by glancing around the room at the furniture there and imagining Draco bending him over each and every item. He couldn't even take a piss without imaging Draco sitting on the toilet in front of him with his lips wrapped around Harry's cock. And do you know what taking a leak with a hard on is like? It's fucking impossible, is what it is.

Harry was bored and lonely. He had become accustomed to busy Saturdays spent playing football with his friends or out (or in) on dates with Draco. He was granted a brief reprieve in his sullen Saturday when Draco popped back at lunch time, but he didn't stay long. He simply dropped off and picked up a few files, grabbed some nuts from the hotel room's mini bar and landed a strong but quick kiss on Harry's expectant lips. All the while mumbling things like 'Fucking estate agents', 'How the fuck can I turn that into a pub? It was a fucking shit hole' and 'For fuck's sake, fuck my life'. Draco's word of the day appeared to be 'fuck'.

By the early afternoon Harry decided to take a trip around the hotel. He went all the way down to the ground floor, then all the way up the top floor, stopping off at each floor on the way down. Considering the hotel only had eight floors, this didn't actually take very long. And now Harry could safely say each and every floor looked exactly the same.

Eventually Harry gave up any pretence of attempting to find something entertaining to do. Instead, he decided to sample the mini bar's alcohol contents. After more than a few miniature bottles of the finest Scotch whiskey (when in Rome...) Harry began to wonder how on earth anyone could get drunk on booze that came in such tiny bottles. So he headed back to the ground floor and made a beeline for the hotel bar. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon and he was already buzzed from the whisky, but that didn't stop Harry from ordering a shot of vodka—which he drank immediately—followed by a pint of lager. He spun on his bar stool and surveyed the room. It was mid-afternoon in a hotel bar in a small town in Scotland. The room was empty. Well, almost empty. Over in the corner Harry could see one other patron, sat low in their chair with their head leaning back, eyes closed and a half-empty glass in front of them.

It was Pansy Parkinson.

Harry first instinct was to run from the bar and hide himself back in his room. As childish as that may be, it held some merit. The mini bar in his room had booze, tiny expensive booze, but booze nonetheless. And his room didn't have Pansy in it, quite the selling point, really. Unfortunately Harry's sense of boyfriendly duty took over and he knew he couldn't run away from her; speaking to her and spending time with her was the whole point of being here.

And that's when Harry remembered the bet.

Gulping down half of his beer in two large gulps, Harry plastered on a smile he usually saved for Ministry events and the press, and made his way towards Pansy.

Only two steps from the table Pansy opened one eye and peered at Harry. She closed her eye and pursed her lips briefly before downing the rest of her drink. Without looking at Harry she held out her now-empty glass to him and waved it expectantly.

"Wonderful timing, Potter," she said.

"Er..."

"Gin and tonic, make it a double."

Harry took a deep breath and refrained from rolling his eyes, though he was sure he had burst a blood vessel with the effort of it. Having no other choice, he turned around and went back the way he had come.

Once at the bar he ordered Pansy's drink and hurriedly swigged the rest of his beer before ordering another; again preceded by a shot of vodka. Dutch courage was seriously underrated. He made his way back over to Pansy on slightly wobbly legs and with a rather fuzzy head. Perhaps he should have had more than a packet of crisps for lunch.

He placed the gin and tonic on the table in front of Pansy, and himself in the chair opposite. She did not thank him, or acknowledge the drink at all. Instead she set her eyes on Harry and he felt as if he was being studied and analysed, or as though Pansy was waiting for him to grow a second head.

"You're drunk," she declared and picked up her drink.

This was true. Looking back at her, still slumped ridiculously low in her chair and now trying unsuccessfully to sip from her full glass from her near-vertical angle, Harry realised he wasn't the only one.

"So are you," he retorted.

Pansy brushed Harry's words away with a sweep of her arm.

"Hardly," she said before spilling a little of her drink down her chin. "Maybe a little tipsy," she conceded. She sat up straighter in her chair.

"Have you been drinking all day?" asked Harry, remembering what Draco had said last week about Pansy using these trips as an excuse to get pissed.

"Yes," she answered cheerfully. "Got to do my part for the business."

"And your part is getting drunk?"

"No, you idiot." She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink. "I have been out all day sampling the competition. We need to know what the other pubs—and their alcohol—in the area are like before we set up shop. Getting drunk is just a pleasant and unavoidable consequence." She grinned, obviously pleased with herself.

"That makes sense," said Harry calmly. It was fucking bonkers, but whatever. "And now you're sampling the hotel bar's alcohol?"

"They sell alcohol, therefore they are competition. So yes." Another sip; her drink was almost empty again.

They sat silently for a few minutes. Other than the fact that Pansy may have an alcohol problem, Harry didn't actually know anything about her. He couldn't think of a word to say to the woman. He was spared having to when Pansy heaved a deep sigh and spoke.

"As much as it pains me, Potter, I will make a bloody effort. For Draco." She looked at him with hard eyes, as though challenging him to make this any more difficult than it had to be. He responded with a large and innocent smile. Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco's been off gallivanting with Blaise all day, so what have you been doing to keep yourself occupied?" she asked. Then, glancing at Harry's beer added, "Other than the obvious."

"Oh, er, not much," said Harry, followed by an awkward little cough. He wasn't about the share the fact he had spent the morning sexually frustrated thinking about what he planned to do with Draco all over the hotel furniture later. "Riding up and down in the elevator, mostly."

"'Elevator'? It's a lift, you uncouth twat. How on Earth does Draco put up with you?"

"By sardonically correcting me at every opportunity," admitted Harry. "I think he secretly likes it, actually," he added in a stage whisper; Pansy snorted. "He's also fond of the word 'uncouth'. One of these days I'll actually look up what it means." He ended with a self-disparaging shrug.

Pansy let out a short, but nonetheless carefree laugh at that.

"You're alright, Potter," she said, before finishing her drink and heading to the bar.

When Pansy returned it was with a drink in each hand. She put the beer down in front of Harry and started on her umpteenth gin and tonic immediately. Harry hid his surprise at the gesture and mumbled his thanks.

The silence returned and Pansy was watching him again, but with another beer to occupy his hands and further fuddle his brain, Harry found he didn't mind. He let his mind wander and—inevitably—it settled on Draco. He thought back to some of the fantasies he had had that morning, deciding which one he wanted to play out when Draco finally returned to the hotel for the night.

"So, Potter." Pansy's voice snapped him out of his daydreams. "You and Draco have been dating for a while now. Tell me all the juicy details about your, no doubt thrilling, sexual escapades." She smirked and raised a—what Harry could only describe as hungry—eyebrow at him.

For a moment all Harry could do was gape at her. He was sure she must have used Legilimency to see his thoughts, but then realised there had been no eye contact. He fought to regain his composure as his mind struggled for an adequate response.

"Well, that, you know..." Harry had no idea what he was supposed to say to his boyfriend's best friend about their sex life. Then he stopped stuttering and glared at Pansy. "Considering you're Draco's best friend, I'm sure he's told you plenty of details about _extremely_ thrilling sexual escapades." He wasn't about to let the drunken wench catch him out that easily.

Pansy huffed. "He usually does. But not with you, Potter—not a single word." She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair with an air of harsh contemplation about her. "At first it worried me, but eventually I realised it's because he's serious about you. Serious is something he's not been about lovers before."

These words pleased Harry more than he could describe. So he didn't try to. He felt a sappy smile pull at his lips and his cheeks warm. There was nothing he could think of to say to Pansy's statement that wouldn't be utterly saccharine, so he kept his mouth shut.

"You're an okay bloke, Potter. And Draco really likes you, so I'm more than willing to put up with you and your stupid Gryffindorish idiocy," said Pansy with exaggerated exasperation.

Before Harry had time to laugh and point out to her that stupidity and idiocy were the same thing, the atmosphere around them turned serious. Pansy leaned across the table, held eye contact and levelled her most stern look yet at him.

"But if you hurt Draco I will personally remove your bollocks with a Garotting Spell and replace them with cacti." There was a heavy pause as Pansy continued to stare Harry down, while Harry attempted not to whimper and reach for his crotch.

"Okay, then," he managed, thankfully sounding closer to his normal tone than he thought he would.

Pansy simply nodded once and resumed her previous casual posture and indifferent attitude.

With loyalty tests and threats of bodily harm out of the way, the next hour past quite amicably and more than a few drinks were consumed. When she wasn't hurling insults, scowling or wanting to give him up to a murderous lunatic, Pansy was actually a lot of fun. She had a wicked sense of humour and must give Draco a run for his money with her sarcasm and wit; he could see why they were best friends.

It was a while later that Harry, after wiping up the beer he had spat across the table while laughing at one of Pansy's schoolboy-Draco anecdotes, happened to look up and see the man in question step out of the lift.

"Draco!" cried Harry happily as he attempted to stand up.

Instead he tripped over his own drunken feet and collapsed on the floor. Over the noise of his body crashing into the bar's threadbare carpet Harry could hear Pansy howling with laughter and Draco's yelled cursing.

* * *

"You stupid bloody fuck," shouted Draco as he rushed over to Harry and Pansy.

After a whole day spent trailing around after Blaise from one decrepit old building to another Draco had been ready to curl up with Harry, shag away his weariness and sleep soundly. So when he got back to the hotel room to discover it empty, he found himself going from angry to fed up to worried in the space of a few minutes.

Deciding it would be best to check with the hotel's front desk, in case Harry had left Draco a message, he had made his way back to the ground floor.

Draco had barely made it two steps out of the lift when he heard his name called. He looked over in time to see Harry fall gracelessly to the floor and Pansy throw her head back with laughter.

When he arrived at their table Harry had managed to pull himself up onto his knees and was currently gripping the table for balance. Draco wondered just how long the pair of them had been here drinking, but decided it best not to ask; he probably wouldn't get a coherent answer anyway.

Grabbing Harry under the armpits, Draco hauled him up and deposited him back into his chair. He then settled himself into the seat between the two drunkards and snatched up Pansy's drink, downing it in one.

"Hey!" Pansy complained, but only half-heartedly.

Draco didn't even spare her the disgruntled look he wanted to, choosing instead to pluck Harry's beer out from under his nose and take a deep swig. Harry stared at his empty hand with wide eyes, obviously wondering where his drink had gone. Draco's mind shot back to the last time he'd seen Harry this drunk and couldn't help but wonder where he'd hidden all the shot glasses.

"So, you managed not to kill each other, then?" he asked after finally lowering the glass to take a breath.

"Of course we didn't," replied Pansy.

At the same time Harry said, "She did threaten my bollocks, though!"

Pansy glared at Harry briefly, though Harry seemed to miss it; he was too busy gazing at Draco.

"I missed you," cooed Harry.

"I missed you too," said Draco as he placed a hand on top of Harry's. "But how much have you had to drink today, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes and shrugged, then, upon opening his eyes again, grinned at Draco as though seeing him for the first time. Draco didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes. He settled for turning to Pansy and raising an eyebrow that demanded answers.

"Don't look at me; he was drunk when he got here," she said, holding up her arms in an act of defence.

"And exactly how long ago was that?" He didn't lower his eyebrow.

"Er..." Pansy looked at her wrist—where there was no watch—then around at the room as if it could provide the answer. "About six beers, nine shots of vodka and several hundred G & T's ago."

Draco let his eyes fall shut as he took a deep breath. The sound of a chair being scraped back and the urgent rustle of clothing made him open his eyes again. Just in time to see Harry rushing to the toilet with a hand over his mouth.

"That boy really can't hold his liquor," said Pansy with a small shake of her head.

"He's not a professional drunk like you, dear," replied Draco. Pansy positively beamed at the compliment. "I'm going to make sure he's alright and then take him to bed."

They stood up together and Pansy leaned in and kissed Draco lightly on the cheek before whispering in his ear.

"He's not so bad; I could almost like him."

Without waiting for a response she sauntered away from Draco and over to the bar. Draco stood still and smiled to himself for a moment. From Pansy that was pretty high praise, and the fact that she not only accepted Harry as Draco's boyfriend, but could happily sit and get drunk with him... Well, it meant a fucking lot to Draco. He knew he'd have to put in a huge effort with Weasley if he was going to win their bet.

On that note, Draco decided to make himself feel better by watching Harry bent over a toilet emptying the contents of his stomach.

What Draco actually found in the toilet was Harry bent over a sink splashing cold water on his face.

"Did I miss the vomiting? Oh well, with how drunk you are I'm sure there'll be another performance before the night is through."

"You are a mean and nasty boyfriend," mumbled Harry through his hands. "Now help me get to bed and take care of me," he added, with a small pout that Draco knew was all for show.

"Come on, then." Draco held out his arms and Harry stumbled into them, burrowing his face into Draco's neck and his arms held tight around Draco's waist.

"Mmmm," hummed Harry, obviously comfortable. "I love your hugs."

Draco chuckled and stroked Harry's back.

"Stop shaking," said Harry against Draco's neck.

Draco stopped laughing and whispered, "Sorry," against Harry's hair.

As Draco continued to stroke Harry's back, Harry relaxed more and leaned heavily on Draco.

"I love your strokes," said Harry quietly.

They stood their quietly for a while; Draco wasn't sure how long. He was hoping if Harry relaxed enough he would be able to Apparate them both to their room without the risk of Harry throwing up from the sensation. Draco _really_ didn't fancy dragging a drunken Harry though the entire hotel.

When Harry huffed out a puff of air against Draco's neck, he realised Harry was practically asleep already. Draco resisted the urge to laugh again, lest he wake Harry up. Instead he kissed the top of Harry's head, tightened his arms a little around Harry's waist and Apparated them away.

Once safely back in their room—and thankfully vomit-free—Draco carefully laid Harry down on the bed. He gave a brief thought to the fantasies he'd been having all day about what he had been hoping he and Harry would get up to in this room that night, but didn't dwell on them. As he removed his arms from around Harry he stirred a little, turning his head and reaching for Draco. Smiling, Draco leaned down and reached out to stroke Harry's cheek.

"I love you," said Harry, quietly, but clearly. It was followed by a sigh, and Harry slept on.

Draco remained standing and watched Harry sleep for a long time. He knew Harry was drunk, that he was inclined to be overly affectionate and forthcoming after so much alcohol. But he also knew Harry would never say those words unless he meant them; drunk and half asleep or not. Draco knew that just as much as he knew he felt the same way.

* * *

Harry was woken up by the loud and unceremonious knocking of room service on the hotel door. He dragged himself out of bed in order to tell them—politely—to piss off and come back later.

Without much thought to anything other than the sandpaper lining his throat, the newly installed carpet on his tongue or the mariachi band that had taken up residence in his head, he wandered aimlessly into the bathroom. After a long hot shower, which did wonders for every part of him that wasn't hungover (so, not a lot), he made his way back to the bedroom intent on morning snuggles with Draco until he felt like facing the world again.

What he found in the bedroom was not Draco, but an empty bed. Trying not to pout (and failing) Harry sat down on the bed and was about to flop back down on the pillows when he saw it. A note with his name on it propped up against a small and familiar vile.

Recognising Draco's handwriting Harry snatched it up immediately and read.

_It's a good job Pansy came prepared. Take the potion and meet me downstairs for breakfast. - D x_

Smiling, Harry guzzled down the Hangover Potion and had barely swallowed it before he was bounding out the door.

Finding Draco sitting at a table alone in the hotel restaurant, Harry sat down opposite and stole a triangular piece of jam on toast from Draco's plate. He was suddenly rather hungry.

"Welcome back to the land of sobriety, Potter."

Harry cringed at the use of his surname. He didn't hear Draco call him that very often any more.

"That bad, huh?" asked Harry before taking a large bite of his stolen toast.

"Even without the kinky hotel sex I had been hoping for, it was harmless fun and almost kind of cute. Until you woke up at 3:00 am and decided the bedside drawer was an excellent place to throw up." As he spoke, Draco pushed the rest of his toast away. "If the sound of you retching hadn't woken me up, the smell of your vomit would have."

At least Harry now knew why he was so hungry; he had emptied his stomach the night before. Not even talk of his own sick could put his ravenous stomach off, and Harry gladly pulled Draco's abandoned plate towards him.

"Sorry," said Harry around a mouthful of food.

"That's really not helping." Draco screwed up his nose, but by now Harry could spot the fondness in his eyes.

Harry grinned a full set of jammy teeth at him, and Draco finally caved and smiled.

"Okay, okay, you're an adorable drunk. But there is still a drawer full of vomit you'll need to banish before we check-out."

"You didn't do it straight away?" Harry was horrified. Banishing fresh vomit was simple enough, but after several hours it would have soaked into the wood and dried around the edges. He would not only have to banish, but _Tergeo_ and _Scourgify_, too.

"Harry, it was 3:00 am. I barely managed a _Vacuus Foetor_."

Pushing the thought of cleaning drawers to the back of his mind for now, Harry remembered how and why he had gotten so drunk in the first place.

"So, have I successfully won Pansy over?" He crossed his fingers under the table and nibbled nervously on his bottom lip.

Draco looked to be considering his answer for moment, likely deliberately trying to keep Harry in suspense. "It would appear so; you do still have your balls, don't you?"

Instinctively Harry's hand shot to his crotch and he released a grateful sigh when he found his tackle present and whole. His relief must have shown on his face because Draco chuckled.

"As if I'd let her anywhere near your bollocks, Harry. I'm really quite fond of them, but not so much that I'd want to carry them around in my pocket."

Harry winced and reached for his groin once again.

"So it's looking good for me winning the bet, yeah?" Harry bragged.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that. I can be _quite_ charming when I need to be." Draco bowed his head, smiled and seemed to be blinking rather slowly at Harry.

"You're planning to charm Ron? You mean with your wiles or your wand?" Harry frowned in brief contemplation before quickly continuing. "Either way I don't think you'll succeed. Regardless of how pretty you are, Ron's not even remotely gay. And he's a damn good Auror who would spot any kind of belying charm a mile away."

Draco made a disgruntled noise and sipped his tea.

"If last night is the precedence I have to live up to and beat, then surely all I need to do is get pissed with Weasley." Draco voice was clipped and he didn't look at Harry as he spoke.

"You seem rather annoyed about the fact that I got drunk last night. Why?" Harry cringed. "Other than the vomiting and lack of sex." He reached over and forcefully made Draco lower the mug he was attempting to hide behind. "I spent time with your friend and we didn't kill each other. I thought you'd be more pleased."

"I am." Draco put down his mug and looked at Harry seriously. "But you spent _hours_ with Pansy. You spent hours with Pansy while you were _drunk_... _Pansy_." He heaved a deep breath as he hurriedly poured himself another full mug of tea. "Fuck knows what will come of that. We haven't seen the full repercussions yet."

Harry just smiled and shook his head. He didn't know what Draco could mean; Pansy was a sarcastic bitch, but she was a lot of fun. In fact he'd already thought about possible ways of getting her and Hermione on friendly terms; Pansy would be able to loosen his slightly more uptight friend up, no doubt about that.

"Anyway," said Harry, wanting to move the conversation swiftly on. "It's time for you to meet my friends." He grinned widely over the table at Draco, who closed his eyes, quite obviously fighting an eye roll, and began fiddling with a napkin.

"As much as I would really rather not, I do quite like you a lot, so... needs must, I suppose." He sighed and stopped playing with his napkin, instead he folded his hands over the top of it. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, you know I often play in a weekly football match?" asked Harry. Draco looked Harry straight in the eye and raised one incredulous eyebrow, seemingly challenging Harry to continue with this subject of conversation. Harry fought a smile and failed.

Since Harry had started dating Draco, his attendance to the Saturday morning football matches had been less than consistent. Sometimes he arrived late, having stayed at Draco's on the Friday night and getting waylaid by Draco (and his lips and tongue and hands and cock) in the morning. Other times Harry simply chose to spend the day with Draco, either in bed or at the pub, or on silly dates.

"Of course you do," continued Harry, knowing Draco wasn't going to answer his obvious question. "Ron plays, too. And Hermione often comes to watch. After spending this weekend away with you, I really want to go play in the match next Saturday and, er..." Up until this point Harry had been feeling very positive about his suggestion, but seeing Draco's unmoved facial expression as he carried on made his confidence waver. He knew it was too late to back out now, and carried on regardless. "I think you should come along." He paused, swallowing nervously. "I _want_ you to come along."

At those words Draco's face softened noticeably and his eyes took on a deep and heavy gaze, as though he wasn't looking _at_ Harry so much as _into_ him. It made Harry uncomfortable, yet perfectly safe, all at the same time. He had seen that look in Draco's eyes more and more recently, and he fancied himself in love with it. A spilt second later, however, and the look was gone. In its place was a faux-exasperated look of resignation.

"Would I have to play?" Draco asked with an exaggerated whine to his voice.

With a chuckle, Harry replied, "That would kind of be the point. How else will you get to know my friends? Besides," a smirk Harry had picked up from Draco slid easily onto his face, "I've been looking for an excuse to get your arse into a pair of shorts."

* * *

Nervousness not allowing him to stand still, Harry shifted from foot to foot and continuously rearranged the backpack on his shoulder. He looked at his watch. Draco wasn't late; Harry was stupidly early. That's what the need to get today going and quickly over with got him; the chance to stand around and worry.

It was stupid to worry, he knew. Bringing Draco all the way to Derby to play in the friendly football match had been—and still was—a good idea. He could interact with Harry's friends initially without the intimidating need to make conversation, therefore giving both Draco and Harry's friends (who was Harry kidding? Draco and _Ron_) the chance to get used to one another's presence and not immediately resort to insults. At least that was the plan.

For this to work Harry had already arranged for Draco and Ron to be playing on the same team. Cooperation for a common goal—Harry snorted at the accidental pun—would be much more useful than an extra reason to compete and rile each other.

Everything else was out of Harry's control. All he could do now was watch how things panned out. Which was exactly why he was stood in the prearranged meeting place tapping his toe and glancing at his watch—again.

"You look anxious, Harry," whispered voice a voice from behind in Harry's ear.

"Fuck!" cried Harry as he jumped and whipped around to face a smirking Draco. "Don't do that!"

"Couldn't resist. You've been standing here fidgeting for ages." Draco was still looking smug.

Harry screwed up his face in annoyance. "You were there all along and you just let me stand here like an idiot?"

"I let you stand there, but there's nothing I can do about the idiot part, unfortunately—ow!" Draco massaged the spot on his arm where Harry had punched him.

"Git," said Harry, appeased.

"You know I bruise like a peach, you prat."

Harry did indeed know that Draco bruised easily. He wondered what colour the bruise he'd left just under Draco's left nipple with his mouth last Sunday afternoon was now, almost a week later.

"Here you go," said Harry, holding out the backpack for Draco to take. He shook off thoughts of sexy bruises and got his mind back on the business of the day; it wouldn't do to run around the pitch with a hard on.

"What's this?" Draco asked as he reached for the bag, almost instinctively.

"Your kit. You can't play football in suit trousers and oxfords."

"These aren't oxfords!" Draco sounded scandalised as he looked down at his shoes. "They're cambridges!"

"There's a difference?" asked Harry, purposely stirring the pot. He almost regretted it when Draco gave him a clip round the ear. Almost. With Draco busy rummaging around in the bag, Harry let free an uninhibited smile.

"This top is stripy." Draco stated the obvious as he pulled out the red and white striped football shirt.

"...Yes," said Harry slowly, not understanding the point of Draco's declaration.

"Hmm," Draco hummed, still assessing the shirt. "At least they're horizontal."

"As opposed to vertical?" Harry frowned as Draco shoved the top back into the bag and nodded. "Why is that important?"

"Well," Draco began, and already Harry regretted asking. "Horizontal stripes are more slimming. It's a common misnomer that vertical stripes are the more slimming, but in fact—"

"Come on." Harry stopped Draco's flow by grabbing his arm and swinging him in the direction they needed to go and started walking.

Draco, obviously caught by surprise, let out a huff of air as Harry manhandled him and led him down the street. They weren't far from the park where they would be playing, so Harry knew he had to be quick.

"Right, listen carefully," hissed Harry, almost afraid of being overheard. "You've got to be careful of some of the other players, okay? Not all of them are my friends; just guys who enjoy playing football."

"Don't you need 22 people for a game of football?" asked Draco, shaking free of Harry's grip on his arm and walking unaided. "Of course you don't have that many friends."

"Some of them can be pretty ruthless and rough," continued Harry, not rising to Draco's bait. "Some of them can be quite mean and mocking."

"As if I can't handle myself in _that_ regard, honestly, Harry."

Harry ignored Draco as he carried on. "And a few of them are just rather perverted, forward and overly flirtatious." At that Harry noticed Draco's interested eyebrow and twitch of a smile. "And I will deal with them personally if I see them being too friendly with my boyfriend."

"Spoil sport," mumbled Draco. And then it was Harry's turn to deliver a clip round the ear.

"Just be careful," said Harry clearly.

Draco gave him a mock salute before stepping in front of Harry, stopping him in his tracks, and kissing him soundly on the mouth.

"Stop worrying," whispered Draco against Harry's lips.

Harry smiled, but whispered back, "Not going to happen."

Rolling his eyes, Draco stepped back and continued to walk. Harry reached for his hand and held it firmly as his tried to finish his pre-prepared speech.

"And as for the actual game, Martin has a weak knee, so try to keep to his right; he won't attack from that side and will be easier to tackle. Jamie tends to try a lot of showy moves, but he's actually pretty crap, so don't be intimidated—" He had plenty more to say, but Draco interrupted him

"Harry, I don't know who these people are. They won't have their names on their shirts like professional footballers, will they? So how is any of your insane ramblings going to actually help?"

Instantly Harry opened his mouth to reply, but realised belatedly that Draco had a point.

"Fuck, sorry," said Harry quietly.

"Don't be." Draco squeezed Harry's hand reassuringly. "I'm just not psychic, you know."

"Oh, that's another thing!" Harry was relieved he'd remembered. "No magic." Harry almost laughed at the shocked and indignant look on Draco's face as he said those words. "Most of these guys are Muggles, Draco. You can't just _Confund _them and take the ball."

"You're no fun." Draco pouted. "Isn't sport all about playing to your strengths? Magic is a huge strength of mine."

"I know another huge strength you've got," said Harry before he could stop himself.

Draco laughed. "Distracting me with innuendos, now? Damn, I think that might work."

Suddenly Harry found himself pulled behind a telephone box and thoroughly snogged. When Draco finally released his mouth, they were both panting.

"Not now," said Harry. "We don't have time."

Draco's bottom lip, red from kissing, pushed itself out as Draco frowned.

"After the game," promised Harry. "If you're good," he added with a wink.

Draco's pout became a grin.

* * *

While Draco got changed into his borrowed stripy football uniform he tried to push away the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. There was never the option of telling Harry, but he was nervous. So very, very nervous. It's not that he's opposed to sport, or getting dirty or playing with Muggles. None of that. He zoomed about a broom almost every day growing up, often played Quidditch in rainy, muddy conditions and spends time with more Muggles than wizards these days. What Draco was nervous about was playing _football._

After a meeting was cancelled on Thursday afternoon Draco had gone home early and used the spare time to research football on the internet. He thought it would be easy; there was only the one ball, after all. He'd tried to wrap his head around the rules, really he had, but he kept getting distracted by the photos of the various famous players. And then there had been that one guy, Robbie Keane, who had looked like Harry, which made Draco think about how Harry looked that day in the pub in his sky blue with claret football gear. And then Draco had no choice but to go to bed early and have a wank.

Draco considered simply staying behind in the changing rooms; there were close to 30 people here to play and watch the match, no one would notice if he just didn't show up. But no, Harry would notice. And besides, Draco stopped being a coward years ago. He wouldn't hide from this. He was doing this for Harry.

Thinking about Harry drew a smile to Draco's face. He had spent a good 10 minutes observing Harry before making his presence known at their meeting point earlier. He hadn't planned on the Potter-watching, but old habits die hard, and when he'd seen Harry was wearing the Aston Villa outfit that had played such a prominent part in Draco's fantasies only a couple of days before... He hadn't been able to help himself. Draco had to distract himself with a small shake of his head; now was _not_ the time to get an erection.

With a deep breath and a set jaw Draco made his way out of the changing rooms, wobbling slightly on the peculiar studded shoes. It wouldn't be that bad; football games only lasted about half an hour, right?

Half an hour later Draco was lightly jogging up the large pitch, being careful to stay within sight of the ball and the action, but never stepping in to take part in it. He'd been passed the ball once, and couldn't feasibly ignore it without everyone discovering how utterly uninterested he was in playing the game. So Draco had moved forward to meet the ball, stilled it with his foot and quickly glanced around for a team mate to pass it along to. Feeling like he should make some unspoken effort—along with the fact his red hair was a beacon across the field—Draco had kicked the ball across the pitch to Weasley. How was he to know Weasley was offside at the time?

Having heard Harry shouting about people being 'offside' more than a few times during that one fateful football match Draco attended with him, the offside rule had been something Draco attempted to research thoroughly. Wikipedia had been of little help. He understood the concept, but really, it seemed overly convoluted. Including keeping track of where everyone on the pitch was at once. Which might be easy on a diagram and from above, but not in the middle of a match.

After the offside incident Draco gratefully remained out of the way and largely left alone. After another 15 minutes there was a short break in which everyone took some time to relax and grab a drink of water. And in Draco's case, steal a quick kiss from Harry. Which wasn't actually as nice as it sounded. Harry had been giving his all during the first half of the match; running at full speed up and down the pitch, sliding on the grass to attempt a tackle and on one occasion leaping into the air to avoid tripping over a fallen team mate while head butting the ball. All of this had resulted in a very dirty and sweaty Harry making his way over to Draco for a kiss before muttering something about tactics and defence and shuffling off again.

When the second half of the game began Draco realised he had at least another 45 minutes to spend vaguely moving around the pitch and being bored. He barely kept himself from simply sprawling out on the grass and hoping if enough people walked over him in those ridiculous shoes that he'd be put out of his misery. It was stupid, really. He was supposed to be here to get to know Harry's friends, but how could he do that in the middle of a football game?

Not long after being back out on the pitch, Draco noticed a distinct lack of a red-headed blur among the players. Looking around he spotted Weasley sitting on a bench to the side, obviously sitting out the rest of the match. Draco thought that highly unfair. Surely Weasley actually _wanted_ to be here, unlike Draco who was only putting up with this disaster in order to keep his boyfriend happy. That's when it occurred to him how it would be possible to get out of the game _and_ fulfil the reason he was here in the first place.

Waiting until one of the players near him began running towards him while looking in another direction, Draco feigned ignorance and began jogging towards the man. Sure enough, within seconds the two had collided. With hardly any force at all, the pace they were going, but still Draco 'stumbled', cried out and clutched his ankle.

Once he had been suitably replaced from the game with a substitute, Draco made his way over to the bench on which Weasley sat and lowered himself down on to it. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, instead choosing to enjoy the silence before acknowledging each other's presence. Eventually, knowing the confrontation was unavoidable, Draco relented and spoke.

"Weasley," he said.

"Malfoy," came the reply.

They both kept their eyes on the game. Draco could only assume Weasley was actually watching the match, but Draco was barely paying attention. His gaze was fixed solely on Harry; the reason he was here, wearing this awful outfit, sitting next to a Weasley and about to attempt polite conversation.

"You play very well," was the best Draco managed. Considering Draco had no idea what made someone a good player, he wasn't technically lying.

Weasley simply turned his head slightly to look sideways at Draco. He didn't speak. Draco assumed he was adopting the 'if you don't have anything to nice to say, don't say anything at all' rule. If that was the case, it was likely this conversation would be very one-sided.

"Nice weather for it, anyway," continued Draco after a few moments. He inwardly cringed the second the words had left his mouth.

"You're actually resorting to talking about the _weather_, Malfoy?" Weasley's eyes were wide with exaggerated shock and a small smile graced his face. "You must be desperate."

Draco physically bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. As the taste of copper flooded his mouth, he calmed himself down. It would do no good to fall back on snapped insults and unnecessary hatred. Draco was over all of that, and refused to be the lesser man here. He would not let Weasley pull petty meaningless words of anger from him.

"This isn't about me, Weasley," Draco said, grateful his voice held steady.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence before Weasley responded.

"I know."

The simple reply made Draco frown.

"It's about Harry," Draco clarified.

That large red head once again turned towards Draco and Weasley regarded him with a look of plain confusion.

"I know," repeated Weasley more slowly.

Draco gave a small nod. "I just didn't want you to think this is about you. We don't want to be friends, and I doubt we ever will be friends." Draco could feel the wry smile his lips made without his permission. "I think that's at least one thing we can agree on." He'd meant to mean it as a question, but it truly wasn't one.

"Harry's another," said Weasley.

"Harry's another what?" queried Draco.

"Another thing we can agree on." Weasley sighed and turned to look Draco full in the face. "I don't like you, but for whatever reason, my stupid best friend likes you quite a lot. Barely shuts up about you, in fact." At those words, Draco knew he had broken out into a blush, but Weasley either didn't notice or didn't care. He continued, "I nearly fucked up our friendship when I found out he was sharing a pint with you, I won't risk it again. Even if he's—" Weasley seemed to shudder. "—sharing more than that with you now."

This time Draco had to bite down on the grin that threatened as he wondered what kind of mental images Weasley seemed to be conjuring up.

"Just—" Weasley closed his eyes and pulled a face, as though the words he was trying to speak were causing him great pain. "Just don't take him away from me, okay? We work together, but we're not partners. These games are some of the only time I really get to spend with him lately, and since he met you..." He trailed off with a small shrug and once again looked out at the game.

Ah. So that was the real issue here. Weasley was jealous of Draco monopolising Harry's free time. Since they had begun dating, Harry had attended fewer and fewer of these Saturday football games, choosing to spend entire weekends with Draco. And Draco would admit that at no point did he try to dissuade Harry from that, or encourage him to not forget his life pre-Draco.

It made a change; Weasley being jealous of Draco for having Harry's attention. At school all Draco had wanted was Harry's friendship, which had been snatched away from him by the man now sitting next to him. The man Draco now had to get along with for the sake of Harry; for the sake of being with Harry, for having more than his friendship. For having Harry's love. When Draco remembered those whispered words any trace of remaining hostility or competition between himself and Weasley seemed to evaporate into insignificance.

"Well," said Draco carefully, "if you can put up with me showing my face around here a little more often, I'm sure Harry could be persuaded to miss fewer games." He didn't look at Weasley as he spoke, choosing instead to let his eyes follow Harry's around the pitch. He smiled; Harry really did have nice legs.

"You're planning to come back and play again?" asked Weasley, aghast.

Somehow Draco managed to frown and chuckle at the same time.

"No no, I'll stick to being a spectator. I think I've more than proved my incapability to kick a ball about."

"Could you say that again, please? I thought I just heard you admit you were crap at something." Weasley even had the audacity to cup a hand around his ear and lean toward Draco, so eager to hear him repeat himself.

"You must be mistaken, I am a perfect specimen of the human race. I can do no wrong." Draco sniffed and lifted his chin, but curled the corner of his mouth up when he spotted Weasley shaking his head and laughing out of the corner of his eye.

"But Malfoy, can you take a joke?" asked Weasley, full of seriousness.

Now Draco's smile turned wicked.

"Let me tell you something about jokes, Weasley..."

* * *

By the time the game ended Harry was knackered, but happy. It felt like he hadn't played in weeks which, now he thought about it, he hadn't done. After all the running, jumping and sliding he'd been doing, he knew he was going to ache tomorrow. Maybe he'd be able to persuade Draco to give him a massage. Thinking of Draco caused him to instinctively look around for him. He knew he'd been replaced not long into the second half due to an injury. Harry cursed himself, he shouldn't have made Draco play in the first place, but the least he should have done was check on him when he got hurt.

His worry stepping up a notch when he couldn't spot Draco among the people now milling about on the pitch, Harry rushed over to Hermione, who had been quietly watching the entire match from the side lines.

"Hey, Harry, great game!" called Hermione as Harry drew closer. "Shame that last shot missed; you almost had a hat-trick." She was nothing if not enthusiastic.

"Thanks," replied Harry, not in the mood for post-match analysis. "Have you seen Draco? Do you know where he went after he got injured and subbed? Is he okay?"

"Calm down," said Hermione with a broad smile.

"What are you smiling about? I've lost my boyfriend! He's injured, and possibly collapsed under a tree or—"

"He's right there." Hermione pointed to the far side of the pitch, at a bench on which clearly sat Draco... and Ron.

"Oh, no." Harry groaned and rushed away. He vaguely heard Hermione call something after him, but Harry was too focused on getting over to the bench before his boyfriend and his best friend killed each other.

As he approached them Harry slowed down. There didn't appear to be any wands—or fists—flying, nor did either of them have their face screwed up or red in anger. In fact, when Harry could finally hear them, they both seemed to be _laughing_. Harry wasn't sure if that was better or worse than fighting. What the hell could Draco and Ron find to laugh about?

Harry's question was answered when the pair paused in their laughter and Ron spoke.

"Oh, I know! What kind of books do bunnies read?" Ron's grin was wide and Harry couldn't believe he had it pointed at Draco.

"I don't know," said Draco, smiling right back at Ron.

"Ones with hoppy endings!"

They broke out in peals of laughter again, until Draco started waving his hands.

"Oh, oh, how do you know when there's an elephant in your bed?"

Ron simply shook his head, still chucking.

"By the 'E' on his pyjamas!"

Ron snorted louder than Harry thought he had ever heard him and leaned to the side into Draco. This, more than the jokes and laughter, caused Harry to step closer and announce his presence.

"You two seem to be getting along," he said, smiling uneasily.

"Harry, mate!" Ron straightened up and urged Harry closer with his hands. "Malfoy knows some really funny Muggle jokes!" He turned to Draco. "Malfoy, tell him the one about getting Pikachu on the bus!"

Draco ignored Ron and turned his happy face to Harry.

"Did you enjoy your game?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "Are you okay? Your ankle?" He sat down next to Draco and made to grab his leg, but Draco shooed him away.

"It's fine, it's nothing," said Draco sheepishly, and Harry didn't fail to notice that Draco didn't meet his eye. "Let me tell you that joke."

Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you sure this isn't a joke?" Harry motioned between Draco and Ron. "Have you been sat here all this time? Sat here not hexing each other?"

"Harry, this is a Muggle park, what do you take us for?" Draco chastised.

"Yeah, mate, we'd more likely punch each other."

To Harry's dismay Draco and Ron shared a look and rolled their eyes. Harry reached under his glasses to rub his eyes, sure he was seeing things. As he opened his eyes again he almost hoped to see Draco with his wand pointed at Ron's chest and Ron's hands around Draco's throat. Arguments, insults and fights between these two he knew how to cope with; jokes, laughter and _shared looks_, Harry had no idea what to do with. Perhaps this was the first sign of the coming apocalypse?

Harry's end of the world thoughts were disturbed by one of the other players who shouted over to the group.

"Right, I'm off," said Ron as he stood. "See you both at the pub, yeah?"

"Still the usual one?" asked Harry.

Ron nodded, smiled at them both and waved as he walked away. "Bring your jokes with you, Malfoy," he called over his shoulder.

"That... was very weird," admitted Harry.

"Not as weird as finding you and Pansy completely pissed, I'm sure," countered Draco.

"At least I have the excuse of being tiddly, what's yours!" Harry knew he wasn't going to get over Draco and Ron's camaraderie any time soon.

"Aha!" cried Draco triumphantly. "You just won me our bet!"

"Excuse me!" Harry's voice seemed to be getting higher every time he spoke.

"You just admitted that the fact that you and Pansy got on so well last week was directly related to your inebriated state. Weasley and I got on jolly well for over 40 minutes, longer if you hadn't have interrupted, without the assistance of alcohol, thank you very much. Therefore I got on better with Weasley, because we were both in our right minds while we did! If you can call Weasley's—"

"Finish that sentence and you forfeit the bet," stated Harry. If Draco could so easily still insult Ron, Harry wasn't sure Draco really _had_ won the bet.

"Oh, sod off, Harry. I'm joking." Draco smirked at Harry. "Weasley _likes_ my jokes, remember?"

"Not the ones at his expense, I'm sure."

Draco huffed and shrugged his shoulders, but didn't retort.

"Well, I got rather muddy," Harry said. He clearly saw Draco give him a once-over, and one of his eyebrows arch, seemingly in approval. "So I'm going to go take a shower before heading on to the pub."

"I think I'll shower, too. The hot water will do wonders for my injured ankle." Draco raised his heated stare to Harry's eyes, and Harry knew exactly what wonders Draco was after. "And it'll give me a chance to collect my winnings."

Harry grabbed Draco's hands and pulled him up from the bench. Reaching around him, Harry grabbed a handful of Draco's arse and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I'll show you winnings, Draco."

They made it to the changing rooms within seconds, and after a perfunctory glance around began pulling at each other's clothes. Harry had loved the sight of Draco in his spare football shirt, and his arse in those shorts was a sight that should come with a warning, but now he simply despised both items of clothing for being in the way. He needed to get them off and away and feel Draco's skin all over, close to his own. He needed to run his hands over Draco's bare back, enclose Draco's nipples in his mouth and press Draco's bare arse up against the cold tiles.

Far too long a time later—30 seconds or more—they were both naked. Harry backed Draco into the nearest shower stall and absent-mindedly turned on the tap. Warm water shot down on them, causing their skin to slide easily against each other. Harry quickly captured Draco's lips in a frenzied kiss as the water ran over both their heads and down their faces, until Harry wasn't sure what was their own saliva and what was water.

When he pulled back Harry moaned aloud at the sight of Draco; soaking wet with his blond hair plastered to his head and falling into his eyes. He blinked at Harry, and Harry moaned again as he held Draco firmly around the waist and ground their erections together.

"I want you," said Draco before pulling Harry's mouth in and covering it with his own.

They kissed for long minutes under the falling water, building from careful and leisurely to heated and needy. Soon they were both panting into each other's mouths and moving their hips together at a frantic pace.

"I—I need you," gasped Draco against Harry's jaw as he kissed and nibbled his way across it and down his neck.

Harry, unable to articulate words, simply hummed his assertion and grabbed a bar of soap from a nearby shelf. He tried to thrust it into Draco's hand, but Draco wouldn't take it; pushing it back towards Harry.

"No," said Draco as he slowly licked his way back up Harry's neck, making him shiver. "_I _need _you_."

And Harry understood.

Lips never leaving Draco; his lips, his cheek, his neck, his collar bone, his nipples... and all the way back again, Harry lathered up the soap in his hands. He nudged Draco's legs apart, careful not to let him slip on the wet floor, and reached down between Draco's thighs. Harry let the back of his hand trail lightly over the underside of Draco's cock and teasingly caressed his balls. Draco whimpered at the gentle touches, pushing forward only slightly, seemingly content to let Harry explore.

Not wanting to keep Draco in suspense for too long, Harry moved his finger back and carefully circled Draco's hole. Draco's whimpers became more desperate, and Harry forged on, slowly sliding his forefinger into Draco.

At that, Draco cried out and it echoed around the empty room, drowning out even the loud hiss of the shower for a few seconds.

Almost instantly Draco began pushing back on Harry's finger, silently asking for more. Harry eagerly obliged, working two and then three fingers inside until Draco was practically clawing at Harry's back and calling out with need.

"Oh, please—more, now."

Harry removed his fingers and Draco seemed to deflate for a moment before Harry lifted one of Draco's legs up and leaned in. With the water, the soap and Draco's relaxed and loosened hole, Harry slid his achingly erect penis in easily.

This was the first time Harry had been inside of Draco, and he paused for a moment to allow Draco to adjust, and to simply enjoy the feeling of being completely encased within the tight heat of Draco's arse. Harry lay his head on Draco's shoulder, absently mouthing the skin at the crook of Draco's neck and occasionally nipping lightly with his teeth.

Soon Draco canted his hips forward, seeking movement. Placing a hard kiss on Draco's mouth Harry stood up straight and pulled both of Draco's legs with him, leaving Draco leaning back on the tiled wall and clutching aat Harry's shoulders.

Then Harry pulled out and quickly pushed back in, making Draco mewl with desire. He kept the pace steady, and Draco cried, hummed and moaned on every inward thrust.

"I—I—I—" Whatever Draco was trying to say just wouldn't make it out of his mouth.

Harry ducked his head back into Draco's neck to hide his smile at finally finding a way to shut him up.

The angle change proved an excellent move and after a few more thrusts Draco reached between them and pulled at himself with speed and then he was coming, warm and thick over both of their chests. Harry was close behind, crying out his pleasure into Draco's neck and gripping Draco's legs even tighter.

Harry could feel Draco trembling as they stood under the still flowing water in their post-orgasmic haze. Draco was often heady for long minutes after a powerful orgasm, and Harry kept a strong hold on him as Draco's head drooped onto Harry's shoulder. It was solely due to this nearness that Harry heard Draco's barely whispered words.

"I love you."

Those were the words Harry had been hoping to hear from Draco for weeks now. Harry knew how he himself felt, and even though Draco had let it slip out in a euphoric daze, Harry knew he meant it. Harry had barely been keeping the words to himself all this time, afraid of scaring Draco off if it was too soon for him. He had even dreamt of telling Draco just last week while he slept off his boozy overindulgence. Harry gripped Draco tighter and suddenly wanted to never let go.

* * *

By the time Harry and Draco had actually showered and dressed they were running very late to the pub. Neither of them was very bothered by this fact; sex trumps beer every time.

"So, what pub are we going to?" asked Draco as they left the park and Harry led them across the road.

"The Thomas Leaper; it's not far from here," Harry answered with a small smile.

"The Thomas Leaper? That sounds familiar. It's not one of mine, is it?"

"Erm, sort of, I guess."

Draco frowned at that, wondering what the hell Harry could mean.

When they arrived at the pub less than five minutes later Draco got his answer.

"A Lloyds No. 1 bar? _Really?_" whined Draco.

"What?" Harry questioned innocently. "You own them, don't you?"

"I own them, but I don't source or manage them in anyway. They cater for the young types whereas I favour the old man pubs. Lloyds really aren't my cup of tea."

"Me neither," admitted Harry. "Why do you think I was at that Wetherspoon when I bumped into you? The guys come here because it's so close, but I much prefer The Standing Order. _And _it's only a stone's throw down the street. Lazy bastards."

"Ahhh, The Standing Order." Draco smiled and looked off into nothing. "That used to be my favourite pub that I owned for a while. When I discovered it I spent every day there for at least a month."

"Come on." Harry nudged Draco with his elbow. "Let's have a drink or two here and then disappear down the road."

"I suppose," said Draco as the entered the pub. "I did want to tell Weasley my king of the hankies joke..."

Harry decided not to ask.

They made their way over to a large group of people from the football match, but stopped short when they saw a smaller group off to the side sharing a small booth.

"Are—" Draco blinked a few times and tried again. "Is that—" No, his mouth just wasn't working.

"It really is the end of the world," mumbled Harry at the sight in front of him.

Their friends; Pansy, Blaise, Ron and Hermione, were sat close in their seats with an empty pitcher on the table between them.

"They you are!" called Blaise, motioning for Harry and Draco to join them.

After a brief glance at each other, during which they both saw their trepidation and suspicion reflected back from the other's face, they walked over to the unlikely quartet.

"It was all her idea!" blurted Ron and pointing forcefully at Pansy.

"You'll want to get that finger away from my face before I bite it off." Pansy gnashed her teeth at Ron before taking a delicate sip of the drink in her hand. Ron swiftly withdrew the offending digit and both his hands disappeared beneath the table.

"Pansy approached me at the beginning of the week," explained Hermione, perfectly calmly. "We decided between us that to be able to help you both be comfortable with each other's friends, then your friends should attempt to get along with each other, too." She ended with a curt nod and a small smile in Blaise's general direction.

"After my afternoon with you, Potter, and hearing you drunkenly admit your woes, including your fear of Draco and Weasley murdering each other—"

"I did _not_—" Except maybe he did; Harry really couldn't remember.

"—I decided something had to be done," continued Pansy as though Harry hadn't interrupted. "It turned out you weren't so terribly awful, so I thought 'how bad can the other two be?' and here we are." She finished with a wide sweep of her arm; indicating her drinking companions, coming exceedingly close to backhanding Ron across the face and being far more theatrical than Hermione had been.

Harry and Draco stood silently surveying their friends. If either of them had thought seeing their boyfriend chatting merrily to their best friend had been a shock, they both now knew that seeing their respective friends getting together behind their backs in an attempt to build bridges and get along for their sake was one hundred times more shocking. And appreciated beyond words.

Neither of them knew what to say.

Draco, ever the adaptable Slytherin, recovered first.

"I need a bloody drink."

- End -


End file.
